Some Things

Whew, I haven't found time to write in here forever. I think my readership has dropped off to zero (to match the readership of my other, more self-indulgent blog). Today I still can't be assed to make a proper blog entry, but here are some things:

• I watched Demitri Martin's Comedy Central special yesterday and laughed and laughed. Comedy Central is my de-facto channel to put on while I'm packing eBay packages because stand-up makes for good background. They've been advertising Martin's new show every five minutes until I got sick of his floppy-haired visage. I was a big fan of Demitri Martin when he was the youth correspondant on the Daily Show and I've always thought his whole schtick was just a little bit grating and I couldn't figure it out until someone told me they thought he was a smug little shit. He is kind of a smug little shit, isn't he? I don't think I could hang out with him, funny or not.
• I'm going down to Roseberg, the town of my birth tomorrow. It will be a great pilgrimage. I will take pictures of the depression floating by on the breeze.
• I'm in the process of packing my childhood bedroom into boxes. It's a very strange experience. It's given me the idea for a book, though. I've had the desire to write clawing at my brain for weeks now, but I haven't had a good subject (that's probably why I don't write in here anymore. Plus, like I said before, I have more of a life now that I'm back in the US). But I think I'm going to contrast some of the dumb shit I'm throwing out with some of the sweet shit I inherited from my dad (a machete, a skull, mysterious teeth...). It will give me something to do in Sue's class.
• Tonight I'm seeing Lykke Li. I was stoked until someone told me she was just ok in concert. Now I'm medium-stoked.
• The other night I dreamed about mice crawling all over a burlap dummy hanging from the ceiling of our garage. I tried to beat the dummy so the mice would fall out and I could catch them in a brown paper bag, but I was failing. My friend told me the mice represented petty fears and annoyances. I don't know.
• I just looked in a notebook I was keeping during travel from Belfast to home. In it I wrote a in/out list for 2009. The best one: Out - High School Musical. In - Reform School Musical.
• I started writing a couple of blog entries the other day, but I got tired of them and the fizzled out. One was about the batshit craziness of the comic strip, Safe Havens, and how I'm sad they've replaced it in the Oregonian with a terrible local strip. The local strip is called Adams' Apples and is about a teacher named Mr. Adams who teaches a class of wise-alec, adorable elementary school kids. I like to imagine it's about Sean's future. The strip looks like it was drawn in MS Paint and most of the jokes are like yesterdays: Person A: "I'm looking for those tablets that help you lose weight. What should I ask my pharmacist for?" Person B: "Girth-control pills!" That shit makes Garfield look like Proust.

The BFP turns me into a bearded clam

CNN headlines of the day:
"'Help me!' woman yells, then car explodes,"
"'Power Ranger' could face death in yacht killings," and
"Skinny dipper invades Imperial Palace moat" ("Man splashed, threw rocks at police who pursued him in boat... Palace official says its unlikely emperor saw nude swimmer")

So I finally finished The Cranford Chronicles (or 2/3 of it, which is all I hope I need to read) and I feel like I've been sipping tea with old ladies forever. It was a good book, but not what you'd call a page-turner; the conflicts are small and there are no villains - it's just a big, warm-hearted slice of aging Victorian elegance.
Fuck that. Now I'm reading Tipping the Velvet, which is all about oyster-shucking boy-ladies who get it on. Though it's about the late 1800s, it's the only modern book I'm reading this term (I don't think many Victorian novelists wrote about cross-dressing lesbians) and it shows. What an easy read! And not just because of all the hot, seafood euphemisms (did you know the 'bearded clam' is actually a seafood dish?).

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I also got the second Bennington Free Press in the mail today, courtesy of Laurie Kobick. I'm hesitant to write anything here that someone who writes for it might read (though how many people are reading this? Three?) so I'll be democratic and state my likes with my dislikes:

• I'm glad people at Bennington care about current affairs (pro). I'm pretty sure that we're all a tiny bit plugged into politics at the moment. But honestly, BFP, honestly you are the last place I'd ever go for news (con). Even if the writing was outstanding, why would I wait for Henry Lyon to inform me about the financial crisis (in a misspelled front page bulletin, no less) when there are hundreds of sources like CNN, The New York Times and even the fucking OregonianBFP - one Before the End of the World is enough. at my fingertips. The mind boggles! Come on I am interested in reading students' opinion-pieces about current events. Those are unique and something I can't get anywhere else, but I don't need the BFP informing me that the presidential debate was held; the world knows.

Ok, so I said I'd try not to be a bitch, but the above paragraph is pretty bitchy. Let's move on and try and keep it sweet:

• There's a tribute to Archie (pro) - along with Dave, the most lovable security guard of all. He will be sorely, sorely missed. A fourth of the tribute is really about Sarah McAbee - the second time she's been mentioned in the two BFP's this year (con).

• Someone's taken over Dee's baking column (with the nice title "Baking with Faith") (pro). It begins by suggesting that people of our generation don't know who Gene Kelly is (con). Faith, you go to Bennington - we know.

This next bit might get a little cunty:

• Connie Panzariello '12 serves up the requisite Freshman article about how new and exciting and quirky Bennington is and how we're all going to be friends because Bennington is unlike anywhere in the world!

"A Freshman Perspective On Bennington:
I like to think of my first night at Bennington as what will probably be a metaphor for my entire college experience here. At the student center, there was this drum dance. That's really the only way to describe it; only it wasn't exactly a dance in the traditional high school vein. In fact, most of my high school population would have run out faster than you could say the words, had they been there. I had my doubts as well, until I just stood there and watched for a little while. Everyone was dancing, or moving their body to the rhythm. They didn't care about how they looked or what anyone thought about them, they just did it. And after several minutes of inital 'Oh my god, what am I doing here?' thoughts - I joined in.

Oh God, Connie Panzariello '12, gag me with a spoon. (Dear Connie Panzariello '12, if you're reading this, I'm sorry). Some things:

1. Your high school population would have run faster than you could say what words?
2. Those people you saw dancing - they cared about how they looked and what people thought of them. And/or they were high.
3. This is not a metaphor for your college experience. I don't even know if it's really a metaphor... I think it's just a memory.
   

Connie then says she's on a path to self-discovery. It goes on:

I liken it to the proverbial falling without a parachute; only, it's not like you forgot the parachute; it simply does not exist. Before, at home, you probably had your parents, your best friend, and your dog, to fall on. Here you have yourself and about 231 people who are in the same exact plane as you are, but alas, they don't have parachutes either.

Connie, if falling without a parachute is a proverb at all it is one to warn against poor planning and stupidity. Also, it almost certainly ends in death. Are you saying that the freshman class has made a collective stupid decision to go to Bennington and they will all die? Also, who falls on their dog?

It's hard trying to figure out where you stand, how you stand or if you should even be standing there in the first place. Yet, I think the beauty of this place is that no one is going to tell you; you have to figure it out yourself.

Ah yes, the beauty of Bennington. I can see Connie now, five or six months down the road; she is wearing big sunglasses and chain-smoking a hangover away, complaining that nobody knows what they're doing here and that the dances all suck. It's too late to go to Bard, Connie - your credits won't transfer! (con)

Back on track:

• Big Guy/Little Guy. What the fuck? I mean seriously. (con)

• Eileen Scully's brother wrote Sarah Palin's creepy speech at the RNC? (con) Thank you, the skinny, this is exactly the type of interesting information the BFP should be giving me (pro).

• Danny Brylow's thoughtful piece on Nick Brooke's awesome Time and Motion Study (pro).

• Paul Newman's in the paper (pro)! It's cause he's dead (con).

• Zack Franklin's Lucky Strikes graphs. Does this really need to take up half a page? Is there any logic behind any of this? Also, Zack Franklin, did you ever make a graph in school? (con)

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That was exhausting. It's like four years of anti-BFP aggression just rushed out of me. Is anyone still with me? Did that get too ugly? Why am I not reading about lesbians right now?