Photos Coming

This is the last time I was able to use my digital camera. It died on me shortly after I got it. I went a little haywire and made some movies and took lots of photos and then it died. And then I left it sitting there gathering dust. But I’ve ordered a recharger, so expect more pics soon.

Back to the Film

Met with the MIT Prof. this morning about the class I’ll be working on…Indian Popular Culture…mostly it’s a film class and she wants me to lecture one day on the various film New Waves of the ’60s, which should be fun. I’ve been on teaching hiatus due to total burnout, but one class I can do. And combined with the Harvard Extension class I’m T/A-ing (History of Film: 1960 to the Present) , I’m pleased to be getting paid to watch movies again.

Healing Angry Dunkin’ Donuts Man

The rage-management therapy seems to be working wonders for the Angry Dunkin’ Donuts man at the Harvard T. I stopped in this morning for the first time in months and he was very well-behaved. He didn’t even scowl at me when I handed him a $20 to pay for a $1 tab. He kept his head down and his eyes on the money.

He could’ve been scowling beneath his Burgundy hat though, who knows.

Free Money

I came home to find in my mailbox a paycheck from MIT that I had forgotten I was going to be getting. I also came home to find 6 voicemails, all from men. The number of which are work-related calls is unimportant. Today is a good day.

The Poetry of Spam

glaucous boredom schuyler hayden passageway boot threat boom budgetary rankin come alberto exterior shady fatima decent milkweed coat describe ibex inarticulate amphioxis crawlspace contiguous condiment voracity haggard isabel cytology blum molybdenite astronomic neurasthenic ababa mellow dogbane daedalus hysterectomy shrine fourteenth criterion morristown basilar kraut tumbrel burnt guardian derisive diabolic isfahan decay coypu corcoran continent

I rather like “glaucous boredom”, and “schuyler hayden passageway” sounds like an expensive new tunnel that will hike up our taxes. But “boot threat boom” is my favorite, followed closely behind by “shady fatima” and “basilar kraut”, though they do sound a bit politically incorrect, along with “derisive diabolic isfahan.” And wouldn’t we all like a “decent milkweed coat”?

Celebrities Want Me

Man, Paris Hilton sure does like reading my blog. I get 4 hits a day from her, at least. I don’t know why she’s so fascinated with a Harvard staffer who lives with apes when she’s got all her movie premieres to go to with all her metrosexual boyfriends. When does she find the time to read my blog? I don’t know, but at least 4 times a day she finds it. I also don’t know why she would call her web site “Paris Hilton Video”, when it’s such an embarassing thing for her. Oh well, who can understand the motives of these pampered heiresses? All I know is I’m popular with them. And Vanilla Ice sometimes too. He seems to be selling tshirts for a living now–sad, but I guess the boy’s gotta eat. And the other day Joe Lieberman seemed fascinated with this blog. But none are as loyal as Paris.

Phew

Today is my last full-time day at Harvard. I am thrilled. I love my Profs but the one-semester trial of full-time hours was a disaster. Back to part-time for me. I prefer to patch together many mini-salaries rather than one big one. Unless the big one is “bestselling author who works from home or in her posh office if she feels like it.”

House of the Apes is Back

House of the Apes will be back after all. I confronted one of the Apes this morning about the cowardly angry note-leaving, and that will be the next scene. Complete with flashbacks. Stay tuned.

Lost in Translation at Last

I plan to finally see Lost In Translation this weekend. I have a feeling I will dislike it. I have a grudge against Sophia Coppola for “othering” women in Virgin Suicides, and I have a feeling I will see more “othering” in this movie, this time of Japan. But at least if she others them I can say she is an auteur showing signs of auteurial obsessions with the same themes. Even if I hate her themes. I go in with a grudge so I can’t say I’m keeping my mind open. But we will see. Expect a report Monday.

Evil Everywhere

Ugh, evil ape notes, onslaught of evil email virus notes, where will it end? And what kind of moron clicks on an attachment with the word “WORM” in it?

Hatred for Apes, Monkeys, etc.

House of the Apes is currently on hiatus due to my renewed disgust with the apes. Tis the season for a battle of angry cowardly notes again, and last year’s ugly battle rears its head again. (See House of the Apes #1 in sidebar.) I have not touched the thermostat in weeks to avoid bringing on any battles, but came downstairs to find a note reading “PLEASE STOP LEAVING THE HEAT AT 70!” In all-caps, each letter scratched over and over like a crazed rageaholic. It wasn’t directed to me since I didn’t touch the dial, but I’m so tired of cowards. No one should have to wake up in the morning to an angry shouting note on their dining room wall, in their own house. And the person who left the note conveniently left it as they were leaving the house for the day, so they left someone with a shitty feeling all day and ran away to escape any consequences. Hopefully my addendum to the note will mitigate their bad feeling: “Wasn’t me but you might try talking to people rather than leaving notes.” Will probably bring on more backlash, but at this point I don’t care. Bring it on, I’m ready to fight the stupid fight.

I hate the apes. And I hope they are reading this.

Misguided Googlers

Some googler is all up in my shit for “capris and loafers”… you’d think they’d be disappointed after landing here on that search but no, they keep coming back. And back. One hit a day makes sense, but 5? Try www.gap.com.

The British Are Coming!

“I’m not from these parts, I’m from a little place called England. We used to run the world before you.”

–Actor Ricky Gervais, star and creator of BBC series The Office, on accepting his Golden Globe for best actor in a comedy series, the first-ever British sitcom to win a Golden Globe. Cynthia loves The Office. Cynthia could (and does) watch its episodes over and over and over and over.

UPDATE: Listen to Gervais interview on NPR. “I’m nobody in America, and it feels brilliant.” He is my hero. He cancelled The Office after two seasons because he didn’t want it to lose its freshness, said he has seen it happen too many times in comedy. Not an American way of doing things. Here we wring every dollar out of an idea until it is so worn and desiccated that it’s embarassing to witness.

Jesus Christ Rock Star

So I was invited (persuaded?) to attend Mass at the li’l Catholic Church by the sea in Winthrop, Mass., by a friend whose religious devotion has lately taken a turn that I can only describe as disturbing. It is a recent development, her churchly enthusiasm, and I figured I might as well check out the source of her newly-formed passion for myself. After all, I was raised Catholic, though I can’t say the Church ever got much of a grip on me. She was excited that Archbishop Sean was coming, and wanted to share it with me. So I went.

And it was like no mass I’ve ever seen. The woman playing the piano was experiencing nothing short of rapture–Tori Amos-like–while pounding away at the keys and swaying and singing at the top of her lungs along with the guitar band–not choir–as they performed Christian rock songs–not hymns. And soon I noticed that it wasn’t just the piano woman who seemed to be taken over by The Spirit. Several women in the audience had their arms held up in the air as their bodies swayed and they sang along, experiencing openly a passion that I have never seen displayed in my family’s provincial church back in Maryland. There, mass is a bitter pill. Here, it’s a rock show. The only word I can use to describe that room is “electrified.”

When the Archbishop was finally introduced, he was given an uproarious standing ovation filled with cheers and shouts, and he turned to Father Tom and said dryly, “They seem to need encouragement.” Then, when he thanked Father Tom for having him, the crowd again leapt to their feet and cheered, this time adding in raucous foot-stomps. To which Father Tom replied by vigorosly shaking off the kudos and pointing up at the Crucifix, in a gesture of “It’s not me, it’s Jesus.” And the crowd went insane.

There, it seems, is the root of the incredible passion I witnessed in this parish. Father Tom. I’ve never seen a priest so enthusiastic about his job. And it makes a difference. It turns out he has a radio show and also does his own community cable tv show, and has a devoted band of admirers–and enemies. A priest rock star right here in li’l Winthrop, who knew?

But I have to say that an injection of rock & roll might be just the thing to save the church, if one were interested in saving it. I might’ve let those CCD lessons sink in when I was a kid if church was like this.

Bush vs. Dean, Fair and Balanced Comparison

This seems about right.

Archbischop Sean

Checked out the archbishop’s visit to a li’l church by the sea in Winthrop last night…will blog about it later today when I am able to form more coherent thoughts. I am not a churchgoing girl (except Christmas with the family), but this mass was like nothing I’ve ever seen. And it had little to do with the archbishop. It was the li’l Winthrop church by the sea.

Rockstar Hair

My hair had become dull and flat in all this cold weather, so I tried a new styling gel to perk things up…va va voom, a fucking rockstar on the streets of Boston tonight. I’ll be the one walking through the door with a mile-long tangle of enormous red curls floating behind her. Wait till next month when I get big blonde chunks added into the red mix–I’ll be walking in a golden-red cloud of punk rock glitter.

Look Ma, I’m gettin’ Hitched!

My crazy friend went and eloped! Here’s my favorite photo from the proceedings–the signing of the marriage license:

Congrats, Lisa and John.

 

GUID is here

Like magic, new features officially installed on the aggregator that take care of my complaint! Thanks Dave Winer.

Movie Mack Daddy

I watched the 1st season of Project Greenlight on DVD and what the fuck was I thinking? Who wants to get inside the horror of moviemaking? Not me. I need no flashbacks to grad school, thanks. I’ll write the screenplay and I’ll critique the movie, but I don’t want to be anywhere near the set unless it’s a very very very good friend’s film and she is DESPERATE for extra hands. But watching the making of someone else’s movie without any of the urgency/obligation of being there is just unecessary torture…like watching a root canal. Unanaesthetized. Day after 20-hour day of stress, stress, and a little more stress thrown in for measure. 

And I have to say I was simultaneously amused and horrified by Ben Affleck, from sexually harassing a female movie exec not only during a group meeting but during the middle of one of her sentences:

FEMALE MOVIE EXEC: the way we should move forward is…
BEN (interrupting): you’re like a strict school teacher, aren’t ya…whip me, i’m a bad boy…

To mack daddy slicing through an excruciating moment by calling Harvey Weinstein on the phone and getting right through and getting an extra million added to the budget.

And then there was his parody of buddy and Greenlight producer Chris Moore’s over-dramatic memo style: (in exaggerated southern drawl): “IF I DON’T GET THE BUDGET TO MAKE THIS MOVIE THE WAY IT NEEDS TO BE MADE I WILL GO HOME AND SHOOT MY WIFE. PLEASE DON’T BE ALARMED BY THIS MEMO.”