I have been in a groggy disarray all day. I varied off my routine like a train off the tracks long before the sun rose. There were whistles and basketballs bouncing as horns sounded to notify the men that they were out of time long before my alarm clock would normally sound.
I used to have that stray dog freedom, an incredible adaptability that would provide me with piece of mind and the ability to roll with all of life's punches. I apparently have lost that.
My normal day varies throughout the week, but the week rarely varies from the daily routines that have been assembled and perfected. Today, that was not the case.
Practice was early, and biology lab started late. I then got out of biology lab early, which would normally come as blessing. In the normal sequence of my Tuesday routine, I would have had the energy to go immediately to the gym for a personal workout before taking a shower and heading to Developmental Psych. Today, however, I was so worn out by the end of Biology that I had to head straight for warm food and warmer blankets. I spent the remained of my morning and early afternoon pitching and stirring as my cell phone vibrated on the end table to remind me constantly that the outside world was moving forward as I slumbered.
I woke up late for Psych, but made it nearly on time. My thoughts were still groggy from the sandman's bag as I sat and wondered both to myself and allowed, "Why didn't I skip this class today."
The real reason was right behind me, one of our players, the only one in any of my classes, and our complete mandate that all players attend class. It looks bad for me and sets a poor example if I don't show up, so I was there. As always.
Now I have made it through study tables and am considering the evening ahead. I have plenty of possibilities and plans. First, I would like to clean up my basement and make my living area more reflective of how I would normally anticipate it looking. I have promised dinner with my mother to make up for the absence of my father who is overseeing a soccer match on campus. I also must find the time to visit with my lovely girlfriend for enough time that I can shake the overbearing sense of loneliness that has been afflicting me as of late. Oh, and I also gave my word that I would help my friends move into their new house (that has a barbershop in the basement complete with external pole). I hope I can make it through. In all reality, I know I will.
29.9.09
28.9.09
"Be wary!"
Tomorrow we will wake up in a different world.
The weather men are predicting the first frost of the season.
Can we already be there?
Combines are pushing their limits, burning fossil fuels, raising dust into the Midwestern evening.
Men seasoned on worry will be up late, racing.
Trying to empty the fields before Jack Frost can take their yields.
The trees are lingering green.
I want to warn them: "Be wary!"
For by the time the sun rises to paint the morning sky, your colors will have changed.
Pledging death to a dead and dying regime.
Turning coats to raise the banners of fall.
The hints have been coming for a while now.
And those of us who have memory have recalled the darker days that loom ahead.
5:00 sundown will leave the wanderers cold and alone.
Fighting to sustain their body temperature.
Hoping to make it until morning.
Tonight will be the first night.
Tomorrow will be the second.
The winter will soon be arrive to wrap the fields in blankets of white.
Burying us until the spring thaw.
Stack the wood and horde the matches.
It is nearly time to wait.
The weather men are predicting the first frost of the season.
Can we already be there?
Combines are pushing their limits, burning fossil fuels, raising dust into the Midwestern evening.
Men seasoned on worry will be up late, racing.
Trying to empty the fields before Jack Frost can take their yields.
The trees are lingering green.
I want to warn them: "Be wary!"
For by the time the sun rises to paint the morning sky, your colors will have changed.
Pledging death to a dead and dying regime.
Turning coats to raise the banners of fall.
The hints have been coming for a while now.
And those of us who have memory have recalled the darker days that loom ahead.
5:00 sundown will leave the wanderers cold and alone.
Fighting to sustain their body temperature.
Hoping to make it until morning.
Tonight will be the first night.
Tomorrow will be the second.
The winter will soon be arrive to wrap the fields in blankets of white.
Burying us until the spring thaw.
Stack the wood and horde the matches.
It is nearly time to wait.
first day.
The first day of autumn has come and gone.
My baby made it home for the weekend.
The temperature is dropping.
We decided on costumes for next weekend.
The leaves keep crunching underfoot.
We napped and watched football in the dark.
I have switched over to a steady diet of folk music.
We saw a kitten poke its head through a hole in a barn.
My coffee warms my throat, lungs, and soul.
Life is good.
My baby made it home for the weekend.
The temperature is dropping.
We decided on costumes for next weekend.
The leaves keep crunching underfoot.
We napped and watched football in the dark.
I have switched over to a steady diet of folk music.
We saw a kitten poke its head through a hole in a barn.
My coffee warms my throat, lungs, and soul.
Life is good.
25.9.09
four days now.
The rain has been falling for four days now.
65 degrees Fahrenheit.
It's not cold, far from warm, soaking through my shirt collar.
Walking across the campus, the trees bend.
The leaves shutter and fall.
Mimicking the drops in their path.
New melodies across the airwaves,
but they are all the same old voices.
Conor, Mike, Tim, all my old time growing up friends.
I hate to feel behind,
but I am needing the extra sleep.
A place to lay my head and let the stones in my stomach turn.
I can't remember the last time I felt alive.
It escapes me now.
That real blood pumping,
heart thumping,
go out and get the world motivation.
Even when I feel it,
it is always fleeting.
Just a watered down high compared to how it used to be.
No fights, no nights, no drunken stupid slurs.
Just books,
and papers,
processed foods,
and extra sleep.
I used to pitch and moan until the morning light.
No sleep for me those nights.
Now I can't recall the last time I was still up and about past midnight.
Unless I wake in the witching hour.
Screaming and sweating.
Thinking about what will be.
What has been.
The sins that my memory just won't let go.
The times missed, the times being missed.
The absence of everything I once knew.
I guess it does no good to complain.
To worry.
To regret.
To bemoan.
To hope.
To dream.
To strive.
To push.
Because we are all just organisms in an environment.
Living out out lifespans with no impact.
Waiting to die.
And hating each other while we can.
I want to sit in the bottom of a well.
With the top slated shut.
And see if I can still see myself.
A month.
A year.
A million burning eons.
This life cycle is getting to me again.
My lady will say to me:
"How do these things get inside your head?"
And I will reply:
"They have been there for all of time."
As a child of seven I wanted to fly.
By the time I turned ten I knew my wings would never grow.
When I hit 15 I was gonna change the world.
Start a rock band and make people feel.
17 came and went and I still wasn't anything.
By 19 I was a bum.
A dropout.
A malcontent.
A pile of shit.
At 20 I was successful.
I grit my teeth thinking about the deeds that were done.
To go from a bum to a prodigal son.
And now I look into the future and see:
Nothing but the girl beside me.
And the eventually walk to the grave.
65 degrees Fahrenheit.
It's not cold, far from warm, soaking through my shirt collar.
Walking across the campus, the trees bend.
The leaves shutter and fall.
Mimicking the drops in their path.
New melodies across the airwaves,
but they are all the same old voices.
Conor, Mike, Tim, all my old time growing up friends.
I hate to feel behind,
but I am needing the extra sleep.
A place to lay my head and let the stones in my stomach turn.
I can't remember the last time I felt alive.
It escapes me now.
That real blood pumping,
heart thumping,
go out and get the world motivation.
Even when I feel it,
it is always fleeting.
Just a watered down high compared to how it used to be.
No fights, no nights, no drunken stupid slurs.
Just books,
and papers,
processed foods,
and extra sleep.
I used to pitch and moan until the morning light.
No sleep for me those nights.
Now I can't recall the last time I was still up and about past midnight.
Unless I wake in the witching hour.
Screaming and sweating.
Thinking about what will be.
What has been.
The sins that my memory just won't let go.
The times missed, the times being missed.
The absence of everything I once knew.
I guess it does no good to complain.
To worry.
To regret.
To bemoan.
To hope.
To dream.
To strive.
To push.
Because we are all just organisms in an environment.
Living out out lifespans with no impact.
Waiting to die.
And hating each other while we can.
I want to sit in the bottom of a well.
With the top slated shut.
And see if I can still see myself.
A month.
A year.
A million burning eons.
This life cycle is getting to me again.
My lady will say to me:
"How do these things get inside your head?"
And I will reply:
"They have been there for all of time."
As a child of seven I wanted to fly.
By the time I turned ten I knew my wings would never grow.
When I hit 15 I was gonna change the world.
Start a rock band and make people feel.
17 came and went and I still wasn't anything.
By 19 I was a bum.
A dropout.
A malcontent.
A pile of shit.
At 20 I was successful.
I grit my teeth thinking about the deeds that were done.
To go from a bum to a prodigal son.
And now I look into the future and see:
Nothing but the girl beside me.
And the eventually walk to the grave.
20.9.09
Wee(a)k Goals
Goals for the Week:
1. Ride my bike to school at least once.
2. Spend enough time doing homework.
3. Unbury myself from the 1,203,754,209 loads of laundry in my basement.
4. Waste less time hanging out doing nothing.
5. Work out 5 days.
6. Spend as little money as possible.
7. Use as little petro as possible.
8. Eat well and keep track.
9. Discover some new tunes.
Assistance in any of the above catagories would be appreciated. That is all. Thank you.
1. Ride my bike to school at least once.
2. Spend enough time doing homework.
3. Unbury myself from the 1,203,754,209 loads of laundry in my basement.
4. Waste less time hanging out doing nothing.
5. Work out 5 days.
6. Spend as little money as possible.
7. Use as little petro as possible.
8. Eat well and keep track.
9. Discover some new tunes.
Assistance in any of the above catagories would be appreciated. That is all. Thank you.
17.9.09
Down.
I have been down a lot lately, and I really don't know why.
I am in love with a beautiful girl who loves me with all of her heart. She makes me smile, and laugh, and most importantly cry (not because of what she does, but because she is far away.)
I am studying something that I have a true passion for. I enjoy tramping through fields to collect samples and spending hours in the haz.mat. building at the landfill learning about chemical and community reactions.
I live in an incredible space. I have everything I could need, including inspiration, but still I find none anywhere. I have books, charts, graphs, posters, game tables, stereos, a television, and a whole assortment of other things.
I have been working out to the point where I am seeing positive changes within myself. Also, this provides me with positive energy and a sense of personal well being.
I have a nice vehicle that speeds me from place to place and gives me an excuse to clean it religiously on a weekly basis.
I have a job where I can impact the lives of my peers and provide a valuable service to my community that doesn't involve flipping burgers or selling t-shirts.
I have done away with my major vices, no more cigarette burns in my t-shirts, no more dirt being poured into my lungs. No more lazy days spent a world away with no plans to return.
I have a wonderful and playful puppy that is always excited to see me. She likes to run, and jump, and fetch, and play. If I don't pay attention to her, she will put her paw in the middle of your chest and demand that I pet her.
I have a loving and caring family that embodies the American Dream. I get along with everyone, and everyone gets along with me. We are quite the loving bunch.
I have solid friends that like to have fun. We talk, and write, and communicate, and laugh, and play.
I have a million other things going for me as well, but still.....
I feel down all the time.
What could possibly be missing?
I am in love with a beautiful girl who loves me with all of her heart. She makes me smile, and laugh, and most importantly cry (not because of what she does, but because she is far away.)
I am studying something that I have a true passion for. I enjoy tramping through fields to collect samples and spending hours in the haz.mat. building at the landfill learning about chemical and community reactions.
I live in an incredible space. I have everything I could need, including inspiration, but still I find none anywhere. I have books, charts, graphs, posters, game tables, stereos, a television, and a whole assortment of other things.
I have been working out to the point where I am seeing positive changes within myself. Also, this provides me with positive energy and a sense of personal well being.
I have a nice vehicle that speeds me from place to place and gives me an excuse to clean it religiously on a weekly basis.
I have a job where I can impact the lives of my peers and provide a valuable service to my community that doesn't involve flipping burgers or selling t-shirts.
I have done away with my major vices, no more cigarette burns in my t-shirts, no more dirt being poured into my lungs. No more lazy days spent a world away with no plans to return.
I have a wonderful and playful puppy that is always excited to see me. She likes to run, and jump, and fetch, and play. If I don't pay attention to her, she will put her paw in the middle of your chest and demand that I pet her.
I have a loving and caring family that embodies the American Dream. I get along with everyone, and everyone gets along with me. We are quite the loving bunch.
I have solid friends that like to have fun. We talk, and write, and communicate, and laugh, and play.
I have a million other things going for me as well, but still.....
I feel down all the time.
What could possibly be missing?
16.9.09
Tired.
I'm just tired.
Exhausted really.
Papers piling on top of papers to caress the ceilings.
They need to be sorted, filled in, and written.
I am the one who must complete them.
Gloom and doom trail behind me like quiet friends that become forceful when they speak.
Time management makes me want to break each and every clock I come across.
I am sick of being up against the wall.
I am tired of being under the gun.
Will someone lend me a hammer to crack the plaster or break the trigger finger?
Will anyone lend me a hand or some resolve?
I wish I had that old time American gumption, but I have the Generation X desire to waste away between couch cusions.
Something needs to happen.
Anything needs to change.
I need to find some motivation.
Exhausted really.
Papers piling on top of papers to caress the ceilings.
They need to be sorted, filled in, and written.
I am the one who must complete them.
Gloom and doom trail behind me like quiet friends that become forceful when they speak.
Time management makes me want to break each and every clock I come across.
I am sick of being up against the wall.
I am tired of being under the gun.
Will someone lend me a hammer to crack the plaster or break the trigger finger?
Will anyone lend me a hand or some resolve?
I wish I had that old time American gumption, but I have the Generation X desire to waste away between couch cusions.
Something needs to happen.
Anything needs to change.
I need to find some motivation.
15.9.09
Fly.
I don't have anything clever to say anymore.
I am going to start writing reviews, but I never do anything I plan on doing. Especially if I say I am going to do it here first.
I have been delving into a world of newer music, not unfamiliar in most cases, but just newer releases. I am going to review several cds over the next week.
For Starters:
Cursive - "Mama, I'm Swollen"
Brand New - "Daisy"
Animal Collective - "Merriweather Post Pavilion"
Andrew Bird - "Noble Beast"
Mastodon - "Crack the Skye"
I feel very uninspired lately. I have become a fly waiting for my three days to be up inside this windowsill of atmosphere.
I am going to start writing reviews, but I never do anything I plan on doing. Especially if I say I am going to do it here first.
I have been delving into a world of newer music, not unfamiliar in most cases, but just newer releases. I am going to review several cds over the next week.
For Starters:
Cursive - "Mama, I'm Swollen"
Brand New - "Daisy"
Animal Collective - "Merriweather Post Pavilion"
Andrew Bird - "Noble Beast"
Mastodon - "Crack the Skye"
I feel very uninspired lately. I have become a fly waiting for my three days to be up inside this windowsill of atmosphere.
14.9.09
Beaten.
I feel like my liver is going to explode.
I just got done working out for the first time in months.
I am still l wheezing and panting, my nasal passages are draining a heavy black sludge.
At least that is what it feels like, what it seems I would suppose.
My muscles are sore. Throbbing through my arms, trunk, and legs. Groups of muscles that hadn't flexed in months pushed to physical exhaustion.
I have felt gross since I left there. Coated in sweat, making pools on the leather of my driver's seat.
I feel like I have been in a fight this morning, excepting the absence of the great adrenaline rush.
I am still panting.
Hopefully I will catch my breath before Chemistry.
I just got done working out for the first time in months.
I am still l wheezing and panting, my nasal passages are draining a heavy black sludge.
At least that is what it feels like, what it seems I would suppose.
My muscles are sore. Throbbing through my arms, trunk, and legs. Groups of muscles that hadn't flexed in months pushed to physical exhaustion.
I have felt gross since I left there. Coated in sweat, making pools on the leather of my driver's seat.
I feel like I have been in a fight this morning, excepting the absence of the great adrenaline rush.
I am still panting.
Hopefully I will catch my breath before Chemistry.
13.9.09
Tidal Wave.
Today I feel buried under a tidal wave:
Computer Crash.
Two Baskets of Laundry.
Unmade Bed.
Messy Car.
Biology Notes.
Chemistry Problems.
Composition Project.
Psych Papers.
Three-Day Hangover.
Body Hurts.
Open Gym Tonight.
No Food Anywhere.
Oh, and did I mention that Marissa is leaving for the week later today?
F-M-L
Computer Crash.
Two Baskets of Laundry.
Unmade Bed.
Messy Car.
Biology Notes.
Chemistry Problems.
Composition Project.
Psych Papers.
Three-Day Hangover.
Body Hurts.
Open Gym Tonight.
No Food Anywhere.
Oh, and did I mention that Marissa is leaving for the week later today?
F-M-L
10.9.09
Rip Van Winkle's Newspaper.
Now, like Rip Van Winkle's newspaper, I realize that I have come out days ahead. It is already Thursday, and I am out of Chemistry Lab. The synapses fired that flung me from far behind to way ahead. It is nearly the weekend, which means the return on my one and only from just up the highway.
I have been listening to the Chronic, the Chronic 2001, and Man on the Moon nearly exclusively this week. It has lead to my seat being leaned way far back, me getting the gangster lean on, and some general loving of life.
I do not know how to express how I feel. It's like the sky is wearing a belt that holds in our aspirations and limits our potential. Thousands of feet up and hundreds of feet wide, it tightens with each personal failure, making sure we do not exceed our limitations. Someday I will grow tall enough to pop it with a pin point. Eventually my hair will bristle the ceiling. Either I will get higher or it will get lower, and that is when we will both find our end.
That may be the best description of what I feel like.
I wish I could get out and about this weekend, but in all reality all I really want to do is stick around here and hang out with the lady. There are big happenings in Ames, possible reunions in Pella, and a whole slate of other things taking place across the world, but I will stay right here causing trouble in River City.
School has presented several challenges, mainly for my attention span. Working in the newsprint shuffle, everything is cut into fifteen minute segments. Interviews, rough drafts, write ups, photoshoots: a good journalist never needs more than fifteen minutes. Now, figuring out the atom composition of particular molecules can take me up wards of a quarter hour. I am enjoying my new course of study immensely, I just wish I could take the book and learn at my own rapid but segmented pace.
My assistant coaching duties for the Men's Basketball Team at the college have also been absorbing my time. Study tables, lifting, and open gym all need to be supervised, and I am usually first in line for the job. It has been a good experience so far, and I feel great spending my time helping the guys with their homework or harassing them about playing sloppy defense. I think we should have a decent team, lots of athletes, but it is yet to be seen which ones are actual ball players.
Today is an easy day.
Tonight will be harder.
I will toss and turn,
as the loneliness burns,
and I wait up hours for my baby.
I have been listening to the Chronic, the Chronic 2001, and Man on the Moon nearly exclusively this week. It has lead to my seat being leaned way far back, me getting the gangster lean on, and some general loving of life.
I do not know how to express how I feel. It's like the sky is wearing a belt that holds in our aspirations and limits our potential. Thousands of feet up and hundreds of feet wide, it tightens with each personal failure, making sure we do not exceed our limitations. Someday I will grow tall enough to pop it with a pin point. Eventually my hair will bristle the ceiling. Either I will get higher or it will get lower, and that is when we will both find our end.
That may be the best description of what I feel like.
I wish I could get out and about this weekend, but in all reality all I really want to do is stick around here and hang out with the lady. There are big happenings in Ames, possible reunions in Pella, and a whole slate of other things taking place across the world, but I will stay right here causing trouble in River City.
School has presented several challenges, mainly for my attention span. Working in the newsprint shuffle, everything is cut into fifteen minute segments. Interviews, rough drafts, write ups, photoshoots: a good journalist never needs more than fifteen minutes. Now, figuring out the atom composition of particular molecules can take me up wards of a quarter hour. I am enjoying my new course of study immensely, I just wish I could take the book and learn at my own rapid but segmented pace.
My assistant coaching duties for the Men's Basketball Team at the college have also been absorbing my time. Study tables, lifting, and open gym all need to be supervised, and I am usually first in line for the job. It has been a good experience so far, and I feel great spending my time helping the guys with their homework or harassing them about playing sloppy defense. I think we should have a decent team, lots of athletes, but it is yet to be seen which ones are actual ball players.
Today is an easy day.
Tonight will be harder.
I will toss and turn,
as the loneliness burns,
and I wait up hours for my baby.
9.9.09
back in my box.
I have been lamenting the late start to the week, and now, it is already Wednesday. I haven't fallen behind, I haven't lost a step, I just feel off because the days in my mind do not align with the numbers in the calender.
I keep discovering that I have nothing to say. I am a blank perspective.
When I consider the consequences against the potential awards of opening my mouth, I have been deciding to just keep quiet.
Shrug it off.
Marvel at how the leaves still look like wax carvings underneath the fading full moon.
I think I have finally been put back in my box.
I broke out years ago;
hoping to make a difference in this world.
Now I have realized that those who speak the loudest:
are more than often those with the least to say.
so, now I guess I will just stay quiet.
as a side note, Andrew was right....Kid CuDi's Man on the Moon is incredible. Truly an achievement. More on this phenomenon later after I have had proper time to digest this composition.
I keep discovering that I have nothing to say. I am a blank perspective.
When I consider the consequences against the potential awards of opening my mouth, I have been deciding to just keep quiet.
Shrug it off.
Marvel at how the leaves still look like wax carvings underneath the fading full moon.
I think I have finally been put back in my box.
I broke out years ago;
hoping to make a difference in this world.
Now I have realized that those who speak the loudest:
are more than often those with the least to say.
so, now I guess I will just stay quiet.
as a side note, Andrew was right....Kid CuDi's Man on the Moon is incredible. Truly an achievement. More on this phenomenon later after I have had proper time to digest this composition.
7.9.09
"Inglorious Bastards" Review
Movie: "Inglorious Bastards"
Director: Quinten Tarantino
Writer: Quinten Tarantino
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sQhTVz5IjQ
Let me preface what I am about to say with one statement: "I love Quinten Tarantino." From the series of "Grindhouse" films to "Pulp Fiction," he hasn't really ever made a motion picture that I didn't enjoy. He is a master of cinematography, and has a unique touch that he puts on each of his films. This touch usually involves graphic violence and scattered plot lines, two things that he has been able to make work for him in the past in places where other directors and writers would have completely turned the audience off.
In "Inglorious Bastards," he did just that. The normal Tanantino crosses of the line were extended to the point where one was forced to cringe, or in the case of my lovely girlfriend, turn a sickly color of green. In past Hollywood recreations of graphic violence, including Tarantino's own works, there is the tendency to take the viewer to the edge of their seat with the promise of violence before returning them with a sigh when the camera cuts away.
Mr. Tarantino had no such aspiration as he led the audience through a man being nearly beheaded with a wooden baseball bat, heavy sub-machine gun fire to a face at close range, and several other excessively graphic nuances that were not necessary.
Aside from the overbearing violence, I wish I could claim that this movie was a success. However, the slow plodding and often times inconsequential plot sequencing was a travesty. In past films like "Pulp Fiction" there were many points in time where the viewer would wonder to himself: "What exactly is going on?" Eventually the viewer would be rewarded with Mr. Tarantino's clever puzzle building and underscored themes buried in advanced plot lines. In "The Bastards," there was no such undercurrent of cleverness.
The plot started, and then never really went anywhere as it progressed over the next few hours, darting between poorly subtitled French, English, or German, with many words going untranslated and appearing in the subtext untranslated and in their native tongue. It was a minor distraction, but one that proved to be another flaw in a picture that couldn't afford extra mistakes.
The one shining bright spot throughout the film was exceptional acting performance by several members of the cast.
Brad Pitt, all though vacant from the screen for a surprising majority of the film he was allegedly starring in, gave an incredible performance as Lt. Aldo Raine. Playing the Tennessee native, Pitt embodied a good time, back country Nazi killing machine. The dialogue for the character was witty and kept the entire theatre laughing throughout the performance. The greatest down fall of this picture was the lack of this character throughout most of the plot. For large segments of time the picture would focus on other (less significant) characters before flashing back to show Lt. Raine and the Bastards mowing down Nazi's for thirty seconds before the audience would be returned to slow moving plot line and horrid dialogue.
German actor Christoph Waltz, who starred as Col. Hans Landa, gave a superb performance as well. He was the shining spot through most of the drab sub-plots that plagued this movie as he made the audience hate him and the Nazi Party. He was a great antagonist, and I am still hating him as I sit here and compose this review. That was his goal, however, so kudos to Mr. Waltz.
Throughout the movie there was a central focus on the love-hate relationship of a German war hero (Private Fredrick Zoller played by Daniel Bruhl) and a Jewish cinema owner who's family was mowed down while in hiding at the beginning of the movie (Shosanna Dreyfus played by Melanie Laurent). This was central to the plot, which was not the intention I got from the trailer I viewed before shelling out $16 to see this glorified work of trash.
The movie plodded through meaningless dialogue only to erupt in violence before returning to the meaningless dialogue. It caught the viewer in an endless cycle of wanting more or wanting less, and it really never hit a good stride that worked for the both the picture and the audience.
I would not recommend watching the film all though I did my best to not give away the meandering and meaningless plot, but I will inform you that Tarantino goes so far with his sensationalism to have Adolf Hitler, played by Martin Wuttke, gunned down via submachine gun at a film premier a la John Dillinger.
This movie was terrible, not worth the money, but still had the potential to be incredibly humorous and well put together. The blame falls severely on writer and director Quinten Tarantino. A movie entitled "Inglorious Bastards" should focus on that group, not some sickly looking German soldier and a Jewish girl with a displeasing face. I was hoping for something along the lines of Saving Private Ryan with a Tarantino spin, but I was very off the mark.
I would not advise you to see this. If you already have, I apologize. Go hook up two televisions and watch "Pulp Fiction" alongside the first "Grindhouse" film. It may restore your faith in Mr. Tarantino. That's my plan.
Director: Quinten Tarantino
Writer: Quinten Tarantino
Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sQhTVz5IjQ
Let me preface what I am about to say with one statement: "I love Quinten Tarantino." From the series of "Grindhouse" films to "Pulp Fiction," he hasn't really ever made a motion picture that I didn't enjoy. He is a master of cinematography, and has a unique touch that he puts on each of his films. This touch usually involves graphic violence and scattered plot lines, two things that he has been able to make work for him in the past in places where other directors and writers would have completely turned the audience off.
In "Inglorious Bastards," he did just that. The normal Tanantino crosses of the line were extended to the point where one was forced to cringe, or in the case of my lovely girlfriend, turn a sickly color of green. In past Hollywood recreations of graphic violence, including Tarantino's own works, there is the tendency to take the viewer to the edge of their seat with the promise of violence before returning them with a sigh when the camera cuts away.
Mr. Tarantino had no such aspiration as he led the audience through a man being nearly beheaded with a wooden baseball bat, heavy sub-machine gun fire to a face at close range, and several other excessively graphic nuances that were not necessary.
Aside from the overbearing violence, I wish I could claim that this movie was a success. However, the slow plodding and often times inconsequential plot sequencing was a travesty. In past films like "Pulp Fiction" there were many points in time where the viewer would wonder to himself: "What exactly is going on?" Eventually the viewer would be rewarded with Mr. Tarantino's clever puzzle building and underscored themes buried in advanced plot lines. In "The Bastards," there was no such undercurrent of cleverness.
The plot started, and then never really went anywhere as it progressed over the next few hours, darting between poorly subtitled French, English, or German, with many words going untranslated and appearing in the subtext untranslated and in their native tongue. It was a minor distraction, but one that proved to be another flaw in a picture that couldn't afford extra mistakes.
The one shining bright spot throughout the film was exceptional acting performance by several members of the cast.
Brad Pitt, all though vacant from the screen for a surprising majority of the film he was allegedly starring in, gave an incredible performance as Lt. Aldo Raine. Playing the Tennessee native, Pitt embodied a good time, back country Nazi killing machine. The dialogue for the character was witty and kept the entire theatre laughing throughout the performance. The greatest down fall of this picture was the lack of this character throughout most of the plot. For large segments of time the picture would focus on other (less significant) characters before flashing back to show Lt. Raine and the Bastards mowing down Nazi's for thirty seconds before the audience would be returned to slow moving plot line and horrid dialogue.
German actor Christoph Waltz, who starred as Col. Hans Landa, gave a superb performance as well. He was the shining spot through most of the drab sub-plots that plagued this movie as he made the audience hate him and the Nazi Party. He was a great antagonist, and I am still hating him as I sit here and compose this review. That was his goal, however, so kudos to Mr. Waltz.
Throughout the movie there was a central focus on the love-hate relationship of a German war hero (Private Fredrick Zoller played by Daniel Bruhl) and a Jewish cinema owner who's family was mowed down while in hiding at the beginning of the movie (Shosanna Dreyfus played by Melanie Laurent). This was central to the plot, which was not the intention I got from the trailer I viewed before shelling out $16 to see this glorified work of trash.
The movie plodded through meaningless dialogue only to erupt in violence before returning to the meaningless dialogue. It caught the viewer in an endless cycle of wanting more or wanting less, and it really never hit a good stride that worked for the both the picture and the audience.
I would not recommend watching the film all though I did my best to not give away the meandering and meaningless plot, but I will inform you that Tarantino goes so far with his sensationalism to have Adolf Hitler, played by Martin Wuttke, gunned down via submachine gun at a film premier a la John Dillinger.
This movie was terrible, not worth the money, but still had the potential to be incredibly humorous and well put together. The blame falls severely on writer and director Quinten Tarantino. A movie entitled "Inglorious Bastards" should focus on that group, not some sickly looking German soldier and a Jewish girl with a displeasing face. I was hoping for something along the lines of Saving Private Ryan with a Tarantino spin, but I was very off the mark.
I would not advise you to see this. If you already have, I apologize. Go hook up two televisions and watch "Pulp Fiction" alongside the first "Grindhouse" film. It may restore your faith in Mr. Tarantino. That's my plan.
6.9.09
Gloomy Sunday.
It is hard to explain, the way I feel exactly.
Maybe caught between now and never,
but more realistically jammed between here and forever.
It is the weekend, the first weekend of the school year to be exact. I had a good first week. I dove in, hit the books, and emerged no worse for the ware come Friday afternoon.
In fact, I may have ended better than I started, which seems odd, but may very well be the reason for education. The fact that I have usually ended up feeling lost, disillusioned or left behind after most weeks of schooling has little to do with academic rigor or challenge.
As I left the campus this weekend, I smiled to myself as I subconsciously identified plant species as I drove the few miles back into town. That was a new addition to my mental significance, and a welcome one to say the least.
I need to shave my face. It has only been three short days, but already I have some semblance of a beard starting to form an invasive itch on my face. It is similar to the way the Crown Vetch takes over the tall grass prairie I suppose, eventually this growth could swallow my smile and eyes, making me unidentifiable to most.
My clothes are clean, my vehicle is spot less, and my living quarters are in fine shape; none of those things are comfort to me right now. Usually those are my ingredients for the ideal day, but today, I woke up to the hum of the radiator. After I emerged in the light, Billie Holliday was crooning "Gloomy Sunday" from the television speakers as I sipped my coffee. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48cTUnUtzx4)
I feel in limbo, somewhere I have remained for months on end now. Stuck between where I am going, where I would like to be, and what can be judged feasible for me at this point in time.
I hope to not accumulate regrets of inaction, mental dynamite stacked and dried inside the cranial cavity to remind what could have been, what shouldn't have been, and what now could never be.
That is the hardest part of getting older for me, at least on the surface. The realization that I have passed particular courses of action without bestowing the my greatest efforts or any affection. Some doors have now closed forever, and I do not have the tact or specialization needed to pick the locks of time and opportunity wasted.
Now I have reached the point where the fates have aligned. I have found my calling, I have met my soul mate. I wake each day with a purpose, all though I do not know what that purpose will be someday, I know where it will be and how I must approach my personal education to prepare for what will be the great challenges of my lifetime. There is not a whole lot of mystery left. I searched and formulated, I backed out and jumped at opportunities, I changed course again and again until I have arrived here. This is it. I will either sink or swim, either rescue myself or drown within this sea.
I have those who care about me, yes. I have those who used to be familiar. I am ever worried that the faces of today will fade and turn like those of yesterday all ready have.
So many people have become strangers now, and I don't go out of my way to connect. I know that the lives we all left behind have not caught up with us yet. Maybe someday they will: in a super market, at a classic car show. We will look up from our candy heists or candy apple and chrome machines and for one second there will be recognition. We will look and wonder, "Is that who it used to be?" Under a straw hat fedora or from behind Ray-ban frames there will be pain in our eyes as we consider what we once held so dear: those late morning guitar strummings in the basement of your parents house, those late night Ultimate Warrior anthology digestions, or even the runs to the top of the slide, just to throw up down it.
So many people have come and gone as I have changed cars on the freight that will someday turn westbound. Whenever I retrace my steps, I realize those who I had considered abandoned by me in my strides forward were really just heading in their own direction. Leaving me behind. Closing the circuits. Cutting communication. Making for one Gloomy Sunday.
(If you read this, and you are now feeling worse for the wear....watch this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hyoszso38E), it will make you feel better or smile or something similar.)
Maybe caught between now and never,
but more realistically jammed between here and forever.
It is the weekend, the first weekend of the school year to be exact. I had a good first week. I dove in, hit the books, and emerged no worse for the ware come Friday afternoon.
In fact, I may have ended better than I started, which seems odd, but may very well be the reason for education. The fact that I have usually ended up feeling lost, disillusioned or left behind after most weeks of schooling has little to do with academic rigor or challenge.
As I left the campus this weekend, I smiled to myself as I subconsciously identified plant species as I drove the few miles back into town. That was a new addition to my mental significance, and a welcome one to say the least.
I need to shave my face. It has only been three short days, but already I have some semblance of a beard starting to form an invasive itch on my face. It is similar to the way the Crown Vetch takes over the tall grass prairie I suppose, eventually this growth could swallow my smile and eyes, making me unidentifiable to most.
My clothes are clean, my vehicle is spot less, and my living quarters are in fine shape; none of those things are comfort to me right now. Usually those are my ingredients for the ideal day, but today, I woke up to the hum of the radiator. After I emerged in the light, Billie Holliday was crooning "Gloomy Sunday" from the television speakers as I sipped my coffee. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48cTUnUtzx4)
I feel in limbo, somewhere I have remained for months on end now. Stuck between where I am going, where I would like to be, and what can be judged feasible for me at this point in time.
I hope to not accumulate regrets of inaction, mental dynamite stacked and dried inside the cranial cavity to remind what could have been, what shouldn't have been, and what now could never be.
That is the hardest part of getting older for me, at least on the surface. The realization that I have passed particular courses of action without bestowing the my greatest efforts or any affection. Some doors have now closed forever, and I do not have the tact or specialization needed to pick the locks of time and opportunity wasted.
Now I have reached the point where the fates have aligned. I have found my calling, I have met my soul mate. I wake each day with a purpose, all though I do not know what that purpose will be someday, I know where it will be and how I must approach my personal education to prepare for what will be the great challenges of my lifetime. There is not a whole lot of mystery left. I searched and formulated, I backed out and jumped at opportunities, I changed course again and again until I have arrived here. This is it. I will either sink or swim, either rescue myself or drown within this sea.
I have those who care about me, yes. I have those who used to be familiar. I am ever worried that the faces of today will fade and turn like those of yesterday all ready have.
So many people have become strangers now, and I don't go out of my way to connect. I know that the lives we all left behind have not caught up with us yet. Maybe someday they will: in a super market, at a classic car show. We will look up from our candy heists or candy apple and chrome machines and for one second there will be recognition. We will look and wonder, "Is that who it used to be?" Under a straw hat fedora or from behind Ray-ban frames there will be pain in our eyes as we consider what we once held so dear: those late morning guitar strummings in the basement of your parents house, those late night Ultimate Warrior anthology digestions, or even the runs to the top of the slide, just to throw up down it.
So many people have come and gone as I have changed cars on the freight that will someday turn westbound. Whenever I retrace my steps, I realize those who I had considered abandoned by me in my strides forward were really just heading in their own direction. Leaving me behind. Closing the circuits. Cutting communication. Making for one Gloomy Sunday.
(If you read this, and you are now feeling worse for the wear....watch this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hyoszso38E), it will make you feel better or smile or something similar.)
4.9.09
Thinking Time 2.
What is your worst fear; something you cannot touch?
My single fear, which then becomes the worst by default, is alligators. I also lump in crocodiles, but I consider them the same organism all though their species have slight variances.
I am of the school of thought that there is nothing that I can not over come in life, and to date, that hasn't been tested.
However, when I was young, my grandfather used to pelt alligators with golf balls while I would be in the cart. They would then chase us as he sped away, chuckling deeply.
Following those Florida trips, my sleep would be plagued with visions of the slimy beasts sliding out of the murky water and chomping my legs like a plate full of Billy Jo's 25 cent wings.
In conclusion, I have decided that one day I will be faced with my ultimate fear in the most dire of circumstances. This is where I will not prevail. I guess you could say I feel a little like Captain Hook at Skull Rock, running on water, trying not to get bit.
What makes you truly happy? (Something that involves no one else.)
Here are several things that make me happy: Natural wonders, Biology, Chemistry, field studies, butterfly nets, water samples, bugs in containers (or under microscopes), communicating through writing, watching the Boston Red Sox, the level of light in my basement, waking up in the morning and knowing that my entire wardrobe is clean, Starbucks Double Shots on the Interstates, a clean truck, small-town dirt-track auto racing, cheap chicken wing specials, photoshop, coffee, spinning vinyls, wolves, getting exercise, longboarding, classifying plants as I drive, high school football of Friday nights, whiskey with apple juice, flannel, strapping on a good pair of work boots, tramping through wilderness, completing tasks, avoiding procrastination, solving equations, petting dogs, and reading the weekly Agriculture Status Reports (http://www.iowaagriculture.gov/press/cropAndWeather.asp).
How do you cure your loneliness?
I sink into my dark basement and stretch phone lines. In addition, I read, fish, or sleep until the loneliness dissipates.
What is the most tiring book you've ever read, but finished?
I have never read anything that I didn't walk away from more enlightened, therefore there has never been a book that was an unworthy read. The Life of Pi dragged substantially through particular parts, but was well worth the perseverance once I reached the end.
What are five things you want to do before your time here is done?
1. Impact the world through biological study.
2. Get married and start a family.
3. Leave my mark on the next generation.
4. Discover something. A trend, a species, an invasive plant, it really doesn't matter.
5. Build a tree house.
Tell us some things about your best friend.
She really is an incredible girl. We talk throughout the day, each and every day. Like the old song goes: "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone." She is gone a lot lately, a couple hundred miles or so away, but I have never felt so close to someone so far away. Sometimes she worries a lot, wonders a lot, apologizes a lot, but it is always with the best intention.
The first time we ever hung out we baked cookies, and when she left, my mom said: "she seems like a keeper." My mom was right.
We have established a list of 101 dates that we are trying to accomplish and that has led us to a botanical center, an art museum, in search of puzzles, and on many other incredible adventures.
She is really something else, and if you haven't met her (and you are a girl), I would highly recommend it (and if you're a boy, I've got your knuckle-sandwich with extra mustard).
We've all be jealous of our best friend. Why?
I am jealous of her organizational skills, financial savvy, and monkeyish tendencies. She helps in with all of them though, so I am content to let her wear the pants and make the important decisions.
Do you have a dream job?
In the ideal world, which this isn't (but we can pretend I suppose), after completing my schooling in Bio-Chemistry I would find a couple jobs to occupy my time. During nine months of the year I would like to teach (high school or college depending on Doctorate status) biology. I feel I could really recruit more young students into the field of biology by showing them how much it really affects the world. In the summer I would like to be a field researcher and travel the world while learning about different environments.
I am on my way. I hope.
Have you ever thought about why your favorite color is your favorite color?
Green. It started with Kermit t. Frog I suppose and grew from there. I was always more of a Muppets person. Green is life in the natural world, and the vibrant qualities it embodies go well with both my skin tone and eye color.
Describe your favorite outfit.
Currently: Light wash jeans (the really comfortable, kinda loose ones), fresh from the package white v-neck t-shirt, that really comfortable and worn BR polo with the tiny green and red horizontal stripes, and my newest cardigan that is the most splendid color of green (the same green as the tiny stripes on the polo). I would also through in a watch, not too flashy, but I feel naked otherwise, and my favorite pair of loafers (without socks, of course). Oh, and boxer briefs. That is just how I get down.
It's 9 a.m. are you still sleeping? If not, what are you doing?
Never, by nine, I am usually several hours into my day.
On day's like today, I will be transitioning into the shower around nine following some parent hang time, Mike and Mike in the Morning, coffee, homework, internet correspondence, making the bed, petting the dog, and gathering things for school.
On other days, I am already gone by now. I get up at 6. On the dot. Every day. No exceptions really. It is so built in at this point in time that my body refuses to sleep longer.
Describe three of your most attractive qualities. (Not physical.)
1. I have a self-confidence that makes me believe I can conquer anything placed in front of me.
2. I am very socially adjusted, I can make anyone feel comfortable (or uncomfortable) whenever I choose.
3. I have a broad array of knowledge pertaining to many diverse subjects. This makes conversations with strangers easy.
Which was easier?
The first. None of them were hard.
Is today going to be a good day?
Most defiantly! My baby is coming home! Chemistry! Biology! McLane's Composition! Cleaning my car! There are the general components for a good day present.
My single fear, which then becomes the worst by default, is alligators. I also lump in crocodiles, but I consider them the same organism all though their species have slight variances.
I am of the school of thought that there is nothing that I can not over come in life, and to date, that hasn't been tested.
However, when I was young, my grandfather used to pelt alligators with golf balls while I would be in the cart. They would then chase us as he sped away, chuckling deeply.
Following those Florida trips, my sleep would be plagued with visions of the slimy beasts sliding out of the murky water and chomping my legs like a plate full of Billy Jo's 25 cent wings.
In conclusion, I have decided that one day I will be faced with my ultimate fear in the most dire of circumstances. This is where I will not prevail. I guess you could say I feel a little like Captain Hook at Skull Rock, running on water, trying not to get bit.
What makes you truly happy? (Something that involves no one else.)
Here are several things that make me happy: Natural wonders, Biology, Chemistry, field studies, butterfly nets, water samples, bugs in containers (or under microscopes), communicating through writing, watching the Boston Red Sox, the level of light in my basement, waking up in the morning and knowing that my entire wardrobe is clean, Starbucks Double Shots on the Interstates, a clean truck, small-town dirt-track auto racing, cheap chicken wing specials, photoshop, coffee, spinning vinyls, wolves, getting exercise, longboarding, classifying plants as I drive, high school football of Friday nights, whiskey with apple juice, flannel, strapping on a good pair of work boots, tramping through wilderness, completing tasks, avoiding procrastination, solving equations, petting dogs, and reading the weekly Agriculture Status Reports (http://www.iowaagriculture.gov/press/cropAndWeather.asp).
How do you cure your loneliness?
I sink into my dark basement and stretch phone lines. In addition, I read, fish, or sleep until the loneliness dissipates.
What is the most tiring book you've ever read, but finished?
I have never read anything that I didn't walk away from more enlightened, therefore there has never been a book that was an unworthy read. The Life of Pi dragged substantially through particular parts, but was well worth the perseverance once I reached the end.
What are five things you want to do before your time here is done?
1. Impact the world through biological study.
2. Get married and start a family.
3. Leave my mark on the next generation.
4. Discover something. A trend, a species, an invasive plant, it really doesn't matter.
5. Build a tree house.
Tell us some things about your best friend.
She really is an incredible girl. We talk throughout the day, each and every day. Like the old song goes: "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone." She is gone a lot lately, a couple hundred miles or so away, but I have never felt so close to someone so far away. Sometimes she worries a lot, wonders a lot, apologizes a lot, but it is always with the best intention.
The first time we ever hung out we baked cookies, and when she left, my mom said: "she seems like a keeper." My mom was right.
We have established a list of 101 dates that we are trying to accomplish and that has led us to a botanical center, an art museum, in search of puzzles, and on many other incredible adventures.
She is really something else, and if you haven't met her (and you are a girl), I would highly recommend it (and if you're a boy, I've got your knuckle-sandwich with extra mustard).
We've all be jealous of our best friend. Why?
I am jealous of her organizational skills, financial savvy, and monkeyish tendencies. She helps in with all of them though, so I am content to let her wear the pants and make the important decisions.
Do you have a dream job?
In the ideal world, which this isn't (but we can pretend I suppose), after completing my schooling in Bio-Chemistry I would find a couple jobs to occupy my time. During nine months of the year I would like to teach (high school or college depending on Doctorate status) biology. I feel I could really recruit more young students into the field of biology by showing them how much it really affects the world. In the summer I would like to be a field researcher and travel the world while learning about different environments.
I am on my way. I hope.
Have you ever thought about why your favorite color is your favorite color?
Green. It started with Kermit t. Frog I suppose and grew from there. I was always more of a Muppets person. Green is life in the natural world, and the vibrant qualities it embodies go well with both my skin tone and eye color.
Describe your favorite outfit.
Currently: Light wash jeans (the really comfortable, kinda loose ones), fresh from the package white v-neck t-shirt, that really comfortable and worn BR polo with the tiny green and red horizontal stripes, and my newest cardigan that is the most splendid color of green (the same green as the tiny stripes on the polo). I would also through in a watch, not too flashy, but I feel naked otherwise, and my favorite pair of loafers (without socks, of course). Oh, and boxer briefs. That is just how I get down.
It's 9 a.m. are you still sleeping? If not, what are you doing?
Never, by nine, I am usually several hours into my day.
On day's like today, I will be transitioning into the shower around nine following some parent hang time, Mike and Mike in the Morning, coffee, homework, internet correspondence, making the bed, petting the dog, and gathering things for school.
On other days, I am already gone by now. I get up at 6. On the dot. Every day. No exceptions really. It is so built in at this point in time that my body refuses to sleep longer.
Describe three of your most attractive qualities. (Not physical.)
1. I have a self-confidence that makes me believe I can conquer anything placed in front of me.
2. I am very socially adjusted, I can make anyone feel comfortable (or uncomfortable) whenever I choose.
3. I have a broad array of knowledge pertaining to many diverse subjects. This makes conversations with strangers easy.
Which was easier?
The first. None of them were hard.
Is today going to be a good day?
Most defiantly! My baby is coming home! Chemistry! Biology! McLane's Composition! Cleaning my car! There are the general components for a good day present.
3.9.09
prehistoric.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6jm5hJTtrk )
I tried to embed, however, in a sense, I just wet the bed.
I am up early again, watching the fields shift under great sheets of fog.
I have some homework I could be doing, things that are not due in the immediate, but could be completed to ease the long haul. Maybe in a few minutes, right now I need some of my time.
The Globe Gazette stole another story idea from me. That is three in a month. Now, it is more understandable, seeing as I no longer work for their parent company, however, it is still bush league and offensive to me.
In yesterday's Forest City Summit and Britt News-Tribune I wrote a 700 word article about the current condition of North Iowa crops. In the story I gave a detailed analysis of the statistics involved, interviewed several prominent people, and ended up writing a damn good story.
It ran on the front of each paper yesterday. If you do not believe me, or are just interested, follow this link:
http://www.forestcitysummit.com/articles/2009/09/02/britt_news/01crops.txt
Anyway, they have also pitched stories I completed on Thorpe Park and a local coffee shop in the favor of sending out another reporter to interview the same people and waste the time and money associated with that. Maybe I can't write. It doesn't matter, I can write well enough to study bio-chemistry, and at this point that is all that really matters.
Yesterday, as I was pacing through the noon-time traffic surge on Mason City's back streets running an errand or two, a strange thing happened.
I had started the drive listening to "My Time" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1JDaX4mwVI) off the new Fab album, but the shuffle kicked in and totally made me look bad.
I was sporting a cardigan sweater I picked up at Banana Republic last weekend and my glasses. I was drinking a cup of coffee and looking all sorts of the prehistoric emo kid I once very well may have been. All of a sudden, across the speakers came the sounds of the ultimate sweater band, Weezer, and more importantly the song Holiday.
I think I could use one.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwDadBnqyVg)
Anyway, I have homework to be getting at and a day to conquer.
I tried to embed, however, in a sense, I just wet the bed.
I am up early again, watching the fields shift under great sheets of fog.
I have some homework I could be doing, things that are not due in the immediate, but could be completed to ease the long haul. Maybe in a few minutes, right now I need some of my time.
The Globe Gazette stole another story idea from me. That is three in a month. Now, it is more understandable, seeing as I no longer work for their parent company, however, it is still bush league and offensive to me.
In yesterday's Forest City Summit and Britt News-Tribune I wrote a 700 word article about the current condition of North Iowa crops. In the story I gave a detailed analysis of the statistics involved, interviewed several prominent people, and ended up writing a damn good story.
It ran on the front of each paper yesterday. If you do not believe me, or are just interested, follow this link:
http://www.forestcitysummit.com/articles/2009/09/02/britt_news/01crops.txt
Anyway, they have also pitched stories I completed on Thorpe Park and a local coffee shop in the favor of sending out another reporter to interview the same people and waste the time and money associated with that. Maybe I can't write. It doesn't matter, I can write well enough to study bio-chemistry, and at this point that is all that really matters.
Yesterday, as I was pacing through the noon-time traffic surge on Mason City's back streets running an errand or two, a strange thing happened.
I had started the drive listening to "My Time" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1JDaX4mwVI) off the new Fab album, but the shuffle kicked in and totally made me look bad.
I was sporting a cardigan sweater I picked up at Banana Republic last weekend and my glasses. I was drinking a cup of coffee and looking all sorts of the prehistoric emo kid I once very well may have been. All of a sudden, across the speakers came the sounds of the ultimate sweater band, Weezer, and more importantly the song Holiday.
I think I could use one.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwDadBnqyVg)
Anyway, I have homework to be getting at and a day to conquer.
2.9.09
Wish List.
(My girlfriend Marissa recently compiled a list of the things she would do if time, age, money, and experience were irrelevant. I thought it was clever, so here is what I would do.)
1. Embark on the greatest road trip of all time. Starting in Iowa and ending in Iowa, it would be based on no other plan. Just simply mileage, music, and sights to be fully taken in. On this trip I would aspire to take in every Major League Baseball Stadium and swim in both oceans that border the United States. I would also enjoy the company of my lovely lady friend.
2. Buy a house, a nice house, and turn it into a home. I would start making memories, start fixing things, and begin a new life on my own.
3. I would hunt Brett Favre. Like so many deer he has slain, I have my sights set on revenge, well, or that purple number four jersey.
4. I would continue to learn, but instead of being in the classroom, I would learn by doing. I want to conduct ecological field studies all across the globe, and with unlimited finances, I would be able to. You can never be to smart, and you can always be dumb.
5. I would create a musical outlet for myself. With unlimited resources, I would be able to compile a group of musicians I enjoy as people, and truly have a great time with them. I would be on the phone with old friends, and I would be hanging at the studio with Robbie.
6. I would relax. In a hammock. And wait for the end of time.
1. Embark on the greatest road trip of all time. Starting in Iowa and ending in Iowa, it would be based on no other plan. Just simply mileage, music, and sights to be fully taken in. On this trip I would aspire to take in every Major League Baseball Stadium and swim in both oceans that border the United States. I would also enjoy the company of my lovely lady friend.
2. Buy a house, a nice house, and turn it into a home. I would start making memories, start fixing things, and begin a new life on my own.
3. I would hunt Brett Favre. Like so many deer he has slain, I have my sights set on revenge, well, or that purple number four jersey.
4. I would continue to learn, but instead of being in the classroom, I would learn by doing. I want to conduct ecological field studies all across the globe, and with unlimited finances, I would be able to. You can never be to smart, and you can always be dumb.
5. I would create a musical outlet for myself. With unlimited resources, I would be able to compile a group of musicians I enjoy as people, and truly have a great time with them. I would be on the phone with old friends, and I would be hanging at the studio with Robbie.
6. I would relax. In a hammock. And wait for the end of time.
"Fall is upon us!"
I want to jump the gun and exclaim: "Fall is upon us!"
That will not do, all though in fact it was just done. Autumn is a quieter season that sneaks into our lives like the morning paper is delivered, and escapes just the same.
In a few short weeks the trees and lawns will be ablaze, all flickering zephyr making a slow leaf minuet tumble.
I have been visibly shivering all morning, ever since I shrugged aside my heavy blankets and laid my bare feet on the concrete floor. I searched out the carpet, but it did not help my shaking.
It is a good sign, at least I would hope. I hate the indoor hall imprisonment of winter, but I bask in the glorious late fall sun sets. The perfect chill will soon be on the breeze, and I will be ready to stand and inhale it richly.
Fall is a time of memories I suppose. Long nights built around the concept that everyone is so void of human contact after a long summer break that we all enjoy each other's company. This is how it begins. The decay and rot aroma hangs dense throughout the atmosphere, intoxicating my senses, invoking slide shows of Friday night football games, grill outs, and bonfire whiskey slurs. I wish I could capture it, and myself, inside a snow globe that was big enough for me to roam in.
For enthusiast of the other seasons, they can simply uproot themselves and find a climate that suits them. For the continual children of spring, the shores of the Pacific Northwest are wet enough to keep their bones soaked. For the constant proponent of summer, the American South West can boil their blood everyday. For the worshipers of winter, well, I doubt there are any of these. Anyway, my point is, there is no where that everything is continually dying, that would make no sense. It would not be a sustainable climate or ecosystem, but I still wish there was a way that I could have fall every day. All the time. Year round. For decades on end.
I haven't been enjoying the first turn of the season, I have been buried under texts with names like: "The Structure of Argument," or "Chemistry the Central Science." I do not know when I will dig my way out. Probably not until the last leaves have fallen and the first snows have buried us for our long winter. That is not a pleasant thought. However, it is correct I suppose.
That will not do, all though in fact it was just done. Autumn is a quieter season that sneaks into our lives like the morning paper is delivered, and escapes just the same.
In a few short weeks the trees and lawns will be ablaze, all flickering zephyr making a slow leaf minuet tumble.
I have been visibly shivering all morning, ever since I shrugged aside my heavy blankets and laid my bare feet on the concrete floor. I searched out the carpet, but it did not help my shaking.
It is a good sign, at least I would hope. I hate the indoor hall imprisonment of winter, but I bask in the glorious late fall sun sets. The perfect chill will soon be on the breeze, and I will be ready to stand and inhale it richly.
Fall is a time of memories I suppose. Long nights built around the concept that everyone is so void of human contact after a long summer break that we all enjoy each other's company. This is how it begins. The decay and rot aroma hangs dense throughout the atmosphere, intoxicating my senses, invoking slide shows of Friday night football games, grill outs, and bonfire whiskey slurs. I wish I could capture it, and myself, inside a snow globe that was big enough for me to roam in.
For enthusiast of the other seasons, they can simply uproot themselves and find a climate that suits them. For the continual children of spring, the shores of the Pacific Northwest are wet enough to keep their bones soaked. For the constant proponent of summer, the American South West can boil their blood everyday. For the worshipers of winter, well, I doubt there are any of these. Anyway, my point is, there is no where that everything is continually dying, that would make no sense. It would not be a sustainable climate or ecosystem, but I still wish there was a way that I could have fall every day. All the time. Year round. For decades on end.
I haven't been enjoying the first turn of the season, I have been buried under texts with names like: "The Structure of Argument," or "Chemistry the Central Science." I do not know when I will dig my way out. Probably not until the last leaves have fallen and the first snows have buried us for our long winter. That is not a pleasant thought. However, it is correct I suppose.
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