An observation from my living room

Question:

Last weekend, a man in my building spent his entire Saturday re-painting his car with black shoe polish. It went from a faded silver blue Crown Victoria to a rusty black Crown Victoria.

Why?

What compels someone to do this? An artistic flare? A dearth of craft projects? Small town boredom? Or maybe it's something deadly. Covering up a hit and run. Hiding from Monk and his super observational powers. Maybe black shoe polish is the only thing that removes blood from steel.

Theories wanted.

A post from your host

A Book to Love

My co-worker Ketty and I have started trading books. She's one of those great people who belongs to an old people book club, and volunteers to trim the historical society's rose garden. I just daydream about being that sort of person, and then base frivolous characters after them in short stories. But she's the real thing! Anyway, as a true testament to her character, the first book she loaned me was The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Apparently it's all the rage, but I had never heard of it. I started reading it last weekend at the Donut Whole in Wichita (PS - fantastic little 24 hour donut shop - a Kansas hipster's dream) and Betsy said that it was quite the popular read. It's all epistolary, but please - don't let that stop you. It's warm and quaint and funny and has a genuine emotion to it. It doesn't veer too far into sentiment, but offers realistic portraits of this idyllic world. Sort of a Stars Hollow set in the 1940's. I highly recommend it. And if anyone can recommend anything in the same vein, I would really appreciate it. Now that I've entered this book trading world, I'm not sure what to give out. I read such dark, strange collections of stories that I don't really have anything equal to the Guernsey folks. Help a poor snobby intellectual out.

Awkward Behavior

On Saturday, I watched my first live production of Hamlet. I know, right. 23 years old and I had never seen Hamlet performed. I read about it on The Hour Badly Spent (fantastic Manhattan blog) and was so grateful. I narrowly missed seeing Michael Wieser's last Manhattan production. As most people in my Fundamentals of Acting class know, I have an enormously creepy fascination with Mr. Wieser. He started at K-State when I did, and I think I've seen every single one of his productions. From Grease to Mamet, Stoppard to Closer, Chekhov, and now... Shakespeare. To watch him end his Manhattan career as Hamlet was truly a gift and I am oh so glad that I got to see it. It also featured my favorite up and comer - Mr. Kyle Myers (who I met at WWU, when I was a director - but I'm sure he doesn't remember.) The point of this story is that 1. I turn normal people into idols when I decide that they are talented and 2. I got to see Hamlet, finally, and I loved it. It was the perfect way to spend my last free weekend until December. Also, I ran into several of our ELP teachers at the production, and one of them told me that Hale Library owns an entire collection of BBC productions of all of Shakespeare's plays. So I don't have to wait until the next Michael Wieser decides to play Othello. I can watch it whenever I want. The magic of libraries surprises me again.

The end of freedom

This week marks the busiest week in ELP history, trying to welcome 14 new teachers, test and place 300 new students, and enroll over 500 in a day and a half. Immediately following, Steven and I will drive to Garden to see Brennen and friends at Tumbleweed (yay!) and then come back for the first week of classes. Then next weekend, I begin my first semester. As a full-time graduate student. Fortunately, being a full-time graduate student is not as expensive as I anticipated. Tuition is comparable to undergrad, and my books only cost me $30. Again, the magic of libraries played a major role. I am not looking forward to giving up my movie watching weekends, but I am looking forward to moving forward. The worst thing about the end of summer is the anxiety I feel about what challenges are about to reveal themselves. From August 1st until the day I get my syllabus, I have this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that impossible deadlines are going to start popping out of my planner. I get myself so worked up that I'll wake myself in the middle of a dream, convinced that I am procrastinating and shirking my time management schedule. Once the semester starts, there's at least some sort of schedule to make, but until then, it's all worry with no solution. I've discovered the only thing that works at all is baking chocolate chip cookies and reading books about far away literary societies. And, of course, a healthy dose of Friends on DVD. I am not sane. I will not recover quickly. Consider this my formal apology.

Movies are marvelous

As I near the edge of the semester, I feel duty bound to report to you just how many movies I have seen this summer. You should feel impressed, or perhaps envious of my accomplishment. If you don't, there is perhpas no reason for me to post it, and I have been thinking of nothing else since I ordered Netflix.

Movies I have seen for the very first time:

Casablanca, Taxi Driver, On the Waterfront, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Singin' in the Rain, The Maltese Falcon, Vertigo, Tootsie, Bye Bye Birdie, The Godfather, The Godfather Part 2, Raging Bull, It Happened One Night, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Manchurian Candidate, Cool Hand Luke, and Rebel Without a Cause.

From these I have learned some very interesting things.

1. I love Marlon Brando. I would watch him eat cereal. I would watch him decide which laundry detergent to buy. I think he's a genius and I wish that he made more movies. He is absolutely captivating.

(To think, I used to have pictures of Ben Affleck on my walls. For shame.)

2. With the exception of To Kill a Mockingbird, I don't like movies from the 60's. Do I not understand them? Are they too creepy? Or is it just that Janet Leigh is always playing two characters, and we're supposed to not notice? There's just something about it that I cannot connect to. Though I did fall in love with Paul Newman from the very first smile. 100 percent.

(That cool Luke smile. Natural born world shaker. Miss you, Paul.)

3. Sad but true, my favorite movie in this list is Tootsie. Ever since I watched a behind the scenes movie about Dustin Hoffman in a production of Death of a Salesman, he has remained my favorite actor. His work in Tootsie is a bit frantic, but still hysterical. And those scenes with Sidney Pollack! Eternal! Every time we started to watch a new movie from the list, a little part of me wanted to just watch Tootsie again. And, on Netflix, you can watch it any time you want - it's part of the online features.

(Best. Scene. In. Movie.)

4. I wish Robert DeNiro still made good movies. Oh, and movie trivia - "I coulda been a contender!" - On the Waterfront, not Raging Bull. Now you know.

I'm in possession of The Philadelphia Story right now, and the plan is to watch it before the end of the week. As for the rest of the list, I imagine it will be slow going, now that we're up against the double threat of homework and college football. Autumn is truly the best time of year.

Funny in part, people for all

Just saw the movie "Funny People" and I must admit - I loved it.

I read a lot of movie reviews, in between answering student questions, departmental phone calls, and painting office walls and I was so disappointed last week when the reviews for the movie started coming out. They said it was too long, too serious, too unsympathetic. Perhaps this is what I needed going in, to put myself at a level to take the movie for what it was, without inflating it with anxious expectations. However, in case you are swayed by critics, I'd like to respond with my take.

The Length

Sure it's long for a comedy. But isn't that a good thing? The movie is about the reality of being a comedian, and the characters are all at different stages of success. Is it really so awful to hear 2 and a half hours worth of jokes? These are FUNNY PEOPLE. I want to be in their circle. I want to hear their observations about their daily lives. They're not suffering through a war. They're not dying of a terminal illness (spoiler alert!). They're just living. And, because it's their profession, they make jokes about living. I didn't want it to end. In fact, all of it seemed so fitting. We get to see Ira, an awkward, sincere guy who has to work at a deli to support his stand-up. We get to see the fantastic Jason Schwartzman in a ridiculous TV show bringing in $25,000 paychecks. We get to see Jonas, the fatter, younger, funnier version of Ira, making it big and handling it poorly. These are the young kids, the future, and Adam Sandler is figuring out the shitty nature of mortality through all of these venues. He gives the toast at Thanksgiving dinner, and alludes to his age, his friends, the friends who have gone, and it made me ache for Chris Farley and the good old days of SNL. There are so many moments that reach beyond the character and feel completely true. I'd watch 10 hours of footage just to be a witness to those lives.




Unsympathetic Characters

A lot of reviews mentioned that the movie doesn't work because we don't feel sad for unhappy rich people. What? A person has to live in a trailer or a crappy apartment to be sympathetic? No way. The loneliest people are not the ones on an island. They're the ones in the city, surrounded by people who don't understand. A lack of connection when there are limitless options. Same thing here. George Simmons has made it big. He has the big house and the movies and the stuff and everything, and you'd want to cross the street to avoid him. He pushes everyone away and continues to make terrible decisions. He has the goods, but no one to share it with. He has the people, but he can't make it there. He has been too entrenched in the competitive world of comedy and fame (that Jonah's character so evilly espouses) that he even lashes out at the sweet as pie Ira. The scene where Laura's daughter sings the song from Cats, is so small and real and true that it's heartbreaking. It was a short story moment and it was perfect. Even the reconciliation at the end in the grocery store, with the crumpled up notes was so completely fitting. With all the backstory between Apatow and Sandler, it is impossible not to feel something for these characters.

Adam Sandler

All critics love "Punch Drunk Love" - which I could never quite understand. It's too weirdly aggressive. But he is perfect in this movie. Watching him walk through the hospital lobby after getting his diagnosis, and posing in pictures with his fans - beautiful. Seeing him struggle against himself, so quietly and maddeningly, and facing all that has passed him by was so honest and true. The truth! I don't know if it's supposed to be a commentary on his career and his life, but there is so much to be taken from that perspective. At the very least, I think you can admit he's come a long way since "Big Daddy".

Unexpected Pleasure



Aubrey Plaza, as the female comic in the movie is an hysterical delight. She and Zoe Kazan (Revolutionary Road) are my top two discoveries of 2009. Such a treat.



Those are my two cents. I hope, at the very least, to provide an alternative commentary to the excessive disappointment of the critics. Enjoy or avoid - now you can make an informed decision.

If, then, you

I'm always searching for connections. The more I consume, the more it all seems to relate to each other. So in an attempt to bridge the gap between what you like and what you haven't experienced, here are my observations.

If you like the song "Human of the Year" by Regina Spektor, then you might like the story "This Person" by Miranda July.

If you like the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor, then you might like the Pixar short film "For the Birds."

If you like the movie "Taxi Driver" then you might like the story, "Weights" by Charles Baxter.

I've been thinking about this post for awhile, waiting until I had an impressive collection of thoughts to finally publish it, but I'm short on material. Should quality art remind you of other art? Or should it be entirely new? Do entirely new concepts make you think of other entirely new concepts? Is the goal to be universal or unique? I have no answers, only questions. Also, if someone could tell me definitively what Travis looks at in the rear view mirror at the end of Taxi Driver, my sanity would thank you.

What do you think? Does your brain do this too? I'd love to hear your examples and thoughts. Or thoughtful examples, whichever you prefer.

An update on things that are good

1. This week I lost a promotion but won a raise. Thanks, gov'nuh!

2. Elizabeth and the Catapult - Taller Children. Their first full-length album came out on June 9th and I didn't even know it! But thanks to iTunes, I got the whole thing for $6.99. Favorite tracks: "Taller Children", "Race You" and "Everybody Knows."


3. After watching Cabaret this weekend with the family, I finally broke down and asked Dad to send me a list of classic movies that I should've seen years ago. He sent me a list of 64 films and I promptly signed up for Netflix. So far this week we've seen Casablanca and Taxi Driver - back to back. It made for a very interesting evening. Tonight we're viewing On the Waterfront and Breakfast at Tiffany's. My goal is to watch as many as possible before classes start again on August 28th and I'll post reviews as I go along. If anyone has suggestions for classic movies to add to my queue, comment away!



4. Starbucks treat deals. In Manhattan, if you buy an iced coffee before 2, you can keep your receipt and bring it back after 2 to get any iced/blended/cold grande beverage for 2 bucks! It's the perfect excuse to splurge twice in one day.

5. Cherries. We've hit that holy grail of summer where, for one week, you can buy cherries at a non-absurd price. Yum.

men + guns + hats = happy Susan

(I wish more people wore hats)

Occasionally, it's helpful to have gaps in your education. Despite Dad's best efforts, I know very little about American history. I can recognize important names, and can put together a very vague timeline of important events, but that's about it. Most of the time it's frustrating and embarrassing, but last night, it paid off.

(It is so nice to see his real face again. Where'd you get that scar, Johnny?)

Public Enemies is the story of John Dillinger - legendary bank robber and American anti-hero. Michael Mann (Hancock, The Aviator) directs in his typical fancy fashion. Again, my ignorance shows here - Steven swears there's some special name for the cinematography, but neither of us know what it is. All I know is, it's pretty. And flashy. And full of those great "production qualities" that I love so much. Most of the reviews written about the movie criticize the decision to make the film at all because everyone knows how the story ends. How can you possibly build suspense when you know the outcome? Enter: my generation. A bunch of know-nothings with an affinity for pretty pictures and pretty people. I caught myself holding my breath through many of the scenes in the movie. I knew the end, but I didn't know how or when. Johnny Depp does a wonderful job of bringing this legend to life - to real life, in a true, 3 dimensional character. He's not just a bank robber, he has a story, a motivation, a perspective that makes him choose to rob these banks and love these women and make the silly decisions over and over and over again. Through Depp, you love the anti-hero, and hope, foolishly, that Mann will decide to re-write history.

(She lubs him. In real life - I'm sure of it)

Mann's crazy cinematograhpy works here, because these are beautiful, powerful characters. You want to understand them, but the camera keeps moving. The few times when it stops, and lets the audience really see a straight profile shot, is incredibly effective. It seems to work as a rhetorical device, allowing the emotion to swell at all the right moments. Perhaps this is what cameras are supposed to do, to narrow the field of vision on important moments, while setting the tone for other scenes. This is the first time that I've actually considered it as a narrative tool. At the very least, it's captivating. The 1930's are my favorite cinematic decade. You've got sweet accents, pet names, adorable costumes and all the little small-town details that I dream of finding in antique stores. It is my ideal world, and I was perfectly content to live in Mann's creation for the full 2.5 hour epic.

(Cotillard calls this a $3 dress. Shenanigans!)

Regardless of how much you know about the true tales of Dillinger and his co-horts, it's still a fascinating part of history. Good movies based on true stories can even inspire the young and lazy to do their own research, and dig out those textbooks they so enthusiastically ignored. Maybe Mann chose to make the movie to help inform society about the history of the FBI. Maybe he's passionate about tommy guns and 30's cars. In the end, I don't care why, I'm just glad he did it.

(The tommy guns were beyond cool)

Varieties of Disturbance*

Places I have come to fear the most

Tuesday night, Steven and I went bowling. We are so good at this. So good, that the owner, Mr. Zuck himself, remembered us and asked why we hadn't been in for awhile. (The last time we bowled I wore a long sleeve shirt and jeans. I'm thinking it was in March). We explained to him about the allure of Stimulus Tuesday, and then he gave me velcro shoes and Steven signed the credit slip. We played two games, and then took a snack break, which required me to venture into the Women's restroom. This restroom does double duty as a locker room for the league bowlers, and as I walked in, I was transported back 15 years to the YMCA locker room. I haven't thought about this locker room in an entire lifetime, but seeing the gray lockers and the little round bench brought back the chlorine smell, the cold carpet, the full-length mirror and the green swim bag filled with cracker bits, swim caps, goggle cases and earplugs. As the moment hit me, I was instantly exhausted, reliving the 6:30 practices, sunburned weekends and laps upon laps upon laps. The rest of the evening I bowled faster and faster, hearing whistles in my ears and constantly afraid that I would get kicked in the head by a girl doing a flip-turn. It worked. I scored a personal best of 143 and we got invited to join a bowling league. Thank you, Seahawks.

I'd rather be British

I live in an apartment complex attached to a car dealership. You can hear people being paged all day long. In our parking lot, old cars get their tires slashed, while 10 feet away, never-driven vehicles get waxed and buffed and loved. Now, a fireworks stand has joined the mix. It came in small doses. First with a small sign. Then a banner. Finally a table, then a tent over the table and a trailer. Yesterday there were two trailers and finally there were people. People and banners and tents and fireworks and pages. I do not like this, Sam-I-Am. My first memory of the fourth of july involved hiding in the back of the red car, seats prickly, air hot, my ears assaulted by the terrific noise of packs of black cats ignited at once. My second memory contains the image of Mom's burnt sock. Every other year melds together into a whirl of bug bites, fear, and exhaustion. I would like to reclaim my independence from this day.

Reactionary tale

These days, I have forgotten how to react. Someone starts telling a joke and I tense up - knowing that at the end, I will have to laugh. I know the right answer, but my brain will not respond. Instead I choke, or sneeze, or sit down and type an email. When someone is telling a sad story, I nod and ask what they would like for dinner. When a co-worker recently filled us in on her weekend adventures, I merely frowned, stared at her knee, and then started humming that new Lady Gaga song in my head. I think it's a result of watching too much TV. In the later seasons of ER, the acting is very similar to my behavior. People yell and cry and laugh and love, but never at the right time, or in a sensical way. They just... act. They are clinging desperately to a way of life that no longer exists. A hit TV show. A critically acclaimed drama. A part of Must See TV Thursday. We both exist in a world that has moved on, and so our reactions will never match up. We are marching to a different drummer. We are seeing a different reality. We are apart, and you do not understand.


*Title inspired by and stolen from Lydia Davis. Read the work. Let your mind bend around it. Then drink a milkshake.