me_you_you_me

I woke up this morning to find that one of the neighbors slid her car into mine. It doesn't look like she did any serious damage, but, her car is pinning mine against the curb until the snow melts and she can move it, which means I won't be driving again until after Snowpocalypse '08.



Hopefully she can move her car without putting mine in the shop. Still, I guess I got off pretty lucky since it's been a smash-up derby out there since the snow started falling. Our neighbor is keeping score for our block, as you can see:

Quick, before you get sick of anything remotely related to the George Bush shoe-throwing affair, click here. Edited to add: The number shoes thrown successfully has now climbed to 46,886,201 in the last 24 hours, and SockAndAwe is not the only site hosting the game.

Last week I said farewell to the graphic novel class. It was a fantastic and memorable quarter, but it flew by just a little too fast for me. Some highlights for me were our discussions about V for Vendetta, Persepolis, Maus, and The Dark Knight Returns. Kevin Boze's guest lecture on The Virgin Project taught me more than I can summarize here. Even just rereading the books to prep for the course turned out to be so rewarding.

Then I had to teach them. Since this was the first time through for me, I ended up winging it a lot, no matter how much prep I put in, and this seems to be true of most classes I teach. I plan out a class days or weeks in advance, and then when the day comes, I change my mind half-way through the commute. And I think that's for the best.

In the end and as always, I have to thank my students for making the class what it was, and I have a lot to be thankful for in that regard. I thought about this quite a bit last week as they were presenting their finals/creative projects. I always end lit classes with a creative project, and perhaps that's purely selfish, considering the stuff I get to see during finals week every quarter. A couple of highlights this time were Vince's ink and watercolor illustrations (such as the Lorca-inspired piece below) and linzlove's über-cool "Comic Mix-Up!" art generator. Other projects produced some clever songs, short films (one of which depicted The Crow as an emo panty-sniffer), and graphic novels based on the course content. I felt privileged to see them all.



On that note, I will lay the graphic novels course to rest, until such time as it is exhumed and resumed (most likely in fall '09).

And now it's time to get ready for the vampire class, which starts in January. :)

"It's not based on any particular data point, we just wanted to choose a really large number."

— a Treasury Department spokeswoman explaining how the $700 billion number was chosen for the initial bailout, quoted on Forbes.com Sept. 23.

I haven't felt like this in a long time, but I'm totally psyched to see Amanda Palmer tomorrow. Apparently Nikki is too since he keeps trying to eat my Dresden Dolls t-shirt.


Excited!

Make January 20th a party that will go down in history:

Good riddance Bush.

Cross-posted from caliginous 

( Read more... )

I just got my copy of NMA's new live album in the mail today, and like all the best things, it comes with a story.

The US leg of their tour this spring ended in Seattle, which meant that before seeing the show for myself I got to hear about it from friends who saw them along the way. My long-time friend Riley told me that before the encore he led the New Orleans audience in a chant of "Fuck Texas! Sing for us!" NMA rewarded that with an extra encore before heading to Austin.

I guess the band was quite taken by the experience because the new CD is entitled "Fuck Texas, Sing for Us" and begins with a recording of the New Orleans crowd chanting. Is it just me, or can I actually hear Riley among the chanting voices?

For John Dillinger
In hope he is still alive
Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 1986

Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons, destined to be shit out through wholesome American guts.
Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison.
Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger.
Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot.
Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes.
Thanks for the American dream, to vulgarize and to falsify until the bare lies shine through.
Thanks for the KKK. For nigger-killin' lawmen, feelin' their notches.
For decent church-goin' women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces.
Thanks for "Kill a Queer for Christ" stickers.
Thanks for laboratory AIDS.
Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs.
Thanks for a country where nobody's allowed to mind their own business.
Thanks for a nation of finks.
Yes, thanks for all the memories-- all right let's see your arms!
You always were a headache and you always were a bore.
Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.

Kevin Boze's third and final visit to BCC this Wednesday was quite the occasion. 45-50 people showed up, including a few other instructors. One of the Drama instructors was so taken with the concept that she's now considering a stage production of The Virgin Project, and that just makes me feel great. My boss (who's on sabbatical) also showed up to show some support, and he had only good things to say.

However, immediately afterward, I received this email, which was sent during the presentation:

Mr. Torrence,

I'm writing to you because I originally signed up for your class at the beginning of this quarter. What I failed to check is the textbooks required for your course. When I got textbooks and saw them, I thought to myself, "How in the world are these college textbooks?!" The Virgin Project, for example: that books is on the verge of being pornographic! It's wrong. So, what I did was I dropped your class and returned the textbooks for a refund. I didn't bother to complain to anyone at the time because I figured it doesn't matter anymore because I'm not in the class and it doesn't affect me personally. But I care about the direction this next generation is going, and one of the things that I do not want to see happen is increased sexual promiscuity and rebellion from the values set by our older and wiser parents. This book, The Virgin Project, I believe, in fact encourages exactly this.

This is what I firmly believe, and it does effect more than just me. I'm not going to "water-down" what I have to say about this just to make it "politically correct." Please, stop promoting this book and its doctrine behind it.


With respect,

XXXXXXXXXX

If I'm ticking people off, I guess I must be doing something right.

Does that make me counter-dependent?

Mountain flowers . . .

New Model Army: Thunder and Consolation
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds: Tender Prey
Faith and the Muse: Evidence of Heaven
The Cramps: Bad Music for Bad People
Einstürzende Neubauten: 1/2 Mensch
Fields of the Nephilim: Elizium
Love & Rockets: Express
Swans: Various Failures
Dead Can Dance: Aion
Sigur Rós: ( )

. . . I think of dying_misfit .









That is all.

Eight!

Kevin Boze, author of The Virgin Project, made his first visit to my classes yesterday. He is an excellent and entertaining speaker with a great sense of humor and lots of insights to offer. Usually when I invite people to visit my classes, I get to know them first (or I invite people I already know). I didn't have that luxury this time, so it was just a shot in the dark until yesterday. But Kevin did an amazing job.

He'll be visiting again next week, only I'm arranging for some other instructors to bring their classes as well (hopefully). This event will also be open to the public. You are invited!

John McCain conceded the election fifteen minutes ago, at 11:21pm EST. Let the party begin.

Listen to Sarah Palin get pranked by the Master Avengers, two comedians from CKOI in Montreal:


"Du rouge à lèvres sur une cochonne." = "Lipstick on a pig."

Shamelessly boosted from mycousinshirley, this made me smile.

linzlove carved the most epic jack o' lantern ever last night. How much did that pumpkin weigh? 57 lbs (25.9 kg)? I was impressed, and this grainy photo doesn't do justice to her work (the one on the left). It was also a very special day for mycousinshirley, who was officially off the wagon just in time to celebrate his cumpleaños and use my head as a punching bag. At least I got a big hug for that.

HUMP! 4 on Friday with Anastasiya and Miguelon was hilarious fun. The best entry this year had to be Douche: Dry and Sandy, which was a hardcore and campy-as-hell transvestite parody of David Lynch's Dune. The screening was also memorable for its strict no-cellphone rule. If you even take your cellphone out of your pocket, for anything, for any reason, at any point, they confiscate it. Permanently. The reasoning is that HUMP is not a public event and they don't want anything ever to be leaked, which is understandable. Personally, I wish all cinemas would enforce this rule. I hate to sound like a fascist, but I can't go to the theater anymore without seeing and/or hearing some douchebag's cellphone.

And speaking of theaters, why don't people know how to watch a movie any more? Case in point: Anastasiya and I went to the Frankenstein/Bride of Frankenstein double feature at SIFF Cinema on Friday night. I realize that both films, especially Bride . . . have their comical moments. They even have their hilarious moments. But they have their serious side too, and some of the scenes, mostly those focusing on the monster, can be very deeply moving. But quite a few people in the audience actually thought it was funny to watch a little girl drown. (They really did laugh at that scene). And there were more than a few folks in the audience that had to guffaw idiotically at every goddamn scene or turn a nearly sold out show into their own personal MST3K episode.

During the intermission, one of the SIFF volunteers talked to the audience for five or six minutes about the making of the two films. He knew his stuff and was interesting to hear, but then some young woman in the back yelled at him to shut up. It made me feel awful.

Over the weekend I've been thinking about this a lot - the fact that so many people just don't know how to watch movies any more. It's counterintuitive when you consider how pervasive media is. We should all be pretty well acclimated, right? But I screen films at work on a regular basis, often to young people, and I often notice that they either miss the point, laugh when a scene turns serious, or don't laugh when things turn comical. For a while I thought perhaps it was just that the majority of my students are under 18 and perhaps not used to watching feature films, especially classics. But at SIFF this weekend there were plenty of folks in their 30s, 40s and beyond. Age didn't make much difference, if any, in their behavior.

It seems like people don't know how to express their emotions beyond a narrow range of safe, familiar feelings. They can't deal with anything too heavy, so they have to laugh (laughter as a nervous outlet). Or maybe they're so sheltered that they've just never known tragedy on a personal basis and therefore don't know what to do when they're confronted with it, even if that confrontation occurs in a safe and secure environment. Or maybe the American filmgoing public is just too dull from watching dumbed-down TV sitcoms and is growing increasingly insensitive (or desensitized) to subtlety. How long till cinematic releases come complete with laugh tracks?

It's not like I don't enjoy a stupid, mindless comedy (or better yet, an incisively satirical one) every now and then, but it seems like most of the audiences I end up watching films with at school or in the cinema lately just can't tell the difference between irony and melodrama or between tragedy and slapstick. Unless they're watching porn; the HUMP! 4 audience knew when to laugh at least.

The ever-amenable K.D. Boze has agreed to visit all three of the classes I'm teaching this quarter. Mostly he'll be discussing The Virgin Project and his life as a graphic artist.

Dates, times, locations:

11/4 - 12:30-2:30 - BCC room R-310

11/4 - 3:00-5:00 - BCC room R-201

11/12 - 12:30-2:30 - BCC room R-101

All these events are open to the public. You are invited!

My work offered a retirement planning/counseling session today.

Standing room only.

This morning on Fark:

"Dick Cheney experiences abnormal heart rhythm while throwing bags of puppies into a river."

This afternoon on Fark:

"Cheney leaves hospital after doctors use rock polisher to fix defect in his heart."

* Grab the nearest book.
* Open the book to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST

"As I honour, so am I honoured . . ."

The Book of Annwyn by Monica Richards

(There are only two sentences on page 56, so I went with the second.)

Today is John Lennon's 68th birthday.

Sunday's Sigur Rós show was just perfect. Besides the fact that they played all my favorite songs, except Milano, it was a flawless performance in one of the best venues in the world. The audience excitement before the show was positively electric, and then 2500 people sat mesmerized through the entire show, though I can honestly speak only for myself. Anastasiya and I kept remarking to one another how beautiful it all was.

Of the times I've seen Sigur Rós, this was perhaps my favorite, even better than Radio City Music Hall in 2003, and that was one of my top ten shows at the time. This time around, it was a stripped version of Sigur Rós, minus the Amiina string section, which I didn't miss at all, to my surprise. I've always thought the strings were an indispensable part of the Sigur Rós formula, but the straightforward rock presentation they offered on this tour, while not quite as gentle, still made full use of the speakers.

The visual presentation was also simplified and consisted of basic lighting effects, projection, and confetti with occasional fog. I guess it worked so well for me because I've always been a minimalist, but it also made sense in that it reflected the band's four-piece arrangement (also used for Með Suð Í Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust).

Okay, I'll stop raving now.

This morning I attended a presentation by Hideko Tamura Snider, a survivor of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Hideko was 10 years old when the bomb destroyed pretty much everyone she knew. She herself almost died in the aftermath. Her talk was very emotionally moving and hit home for me on a variety levels. For one, I used to live in Hiroshima, about 1.5 miles from the epicenter of the blast. But out of her entire presentation, what really meant the most to me was her enduring sense of hope and optimism.

Then I had to run and teach. Today's class focused on Maus, which just seemed to make perfect sense. The theme of hope came up again, and, among other things, I realized how Spiegelman's brutally honest portrayal of Vladek actually reinforces the optimistic and humanistic qualities of the story.

Right after class I had a visit from a co-worker who's recently been diagnosed with uterine cancer. At least one of my co-workers has suffered from cancer every year for the last five or six years, but this one in particular is the youngest so far, only two years older than I, and I was so impressed by her optimism and fighting spirit. This is someone I hadn't perceived as particularly strong-willed, so reflecting on our conversation after we parted ways, I could see how this horrible situation has brought out the best in her.

This evening broke with the leitmotif of hope and optimism, but it was a sweet coincidence that Art Spiegelman spoke at Town Hall Seattle tonight, on the same day I covered Maus in class (a plan I made four or five weeks ago). He talked a bit about Maus and a lot about his artistic style and comix in general. Though tonight's reading wasn't as dynamic as Neil Gaiman's, I felt like I learned a lot.

. . . is the giant wombat.

Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, Friday's reading was sublime. Although I'm not a huge fan of Neil Gaiman (cringe), I thought he was an excellent reader. Hearing the entirety of chapter four of the Graveyard Book was a memorable experience and had me fantasizing about the possibility of hearing the entire novel as a book on CD. I just hope this series of readings is being recorded (he's doing one chapter per day on this tour) so that they can all be compiled some time down the road. Lindsay tells me that video of each reading is also being uploaded to the web, so that's a start.

Another highlight of the reading was that sneak peek at Coraline, directed by Henry Selick, which is, according to Neil Gaiman, the first feature length stop-motion film made in 3-D. I guess Nightmare Before Xmas doesn't count since it was originally filmed in 2-D and later digitally enhanced for 3-D. Anyway, Coraline looked amazing, and I can't wait to see the completed film.

Don't forget to put on your 3-D glasses. . .

So, I received this lengthy letter from TIAA-CREF reassuring me that my retirement saving are safe despite these (their word) "turbulent" times. Somehow I just don't feel too reassured.

Today I also learned what bilirubin is.

mycousinshirley keeps me in the loop on all the latest in butter-related new items.

So there's this:And if I weren't already allergic to dairy products, this would probably do it.

One of my friends just sent me this article about white privilege as it pertains to the current presidential election. White privilege isn't a new concept to me; I think I understand it pretty well, but Tim Wise does a pretty good job of highlighting its relevancy once again.

Full text below the cut.

( Read more... )

A man dances on a tightrope 417 meters above street level. For an hour. From what I've read and seen so far, this sounds absolutely amazing. The concept alone practically gives me vertigo, and the implications . . . . I'm fascinated by pranks and hoaxes and old enough to barely remember this incident. Now it speaks volumes to me about the limitations we place upon ourselves, the inadequacy of our institutions, and the epic proportions a simple act of defiance can take on. The film itself is one that begs to be seen in the cinema.

Last week was both amazing and amazingly stressful. Besides opening week, going back to work, and getting settled into a new office, there were multiple concerts (Nick Cave was amazing) and Lindsay's birthday party, then Rosh Hashanah at Jen's last night. Looking back on it all, I have to say that my work has introduced me to some really kick-ass people. I might complain about some aspects of my job sometimes, but I have a lot to be grateful for too.

I guess it's easier to be positive during my favorite time of the year. There's so much fun stuff going on! On the horizon: Horrorpops, Neil Gaiman reading, Art Spiegelman reading, Sigur Rós, Gogol Bordello, Amorphis, Apocalyptica, Danzig/Dimmu Borgir, Gwar, In Flames, Metallica, Amanda Palmer, etc.

Something else I have to appreciate is that Anastasiya and I have completely compatible schedules, so we get to commute together and spend a lot of time with each other.

In a couple of weeks, I'll also sit down for the final touch-ups on my arm. This tattoo has taken over a year and totally about 50 hours under the needle, so I feel a genuine sense of accomplishment at the prospect of finally seeing it through.

Now it's time for me to get some reading in.

Amanda Palmer is coming to Showbox Market on 12/11. Tix go on sale Saturday.

My new dentist shoots all of her x-rays digitally. I'm really impressed by this. Check out my recent panorex:



She also uses a digital arthroscope during exams. When something bears discussion, she takes a photo and then shows it to you on a 32" monitor. It's freaky to see your molars up close and personal like that, kind of like watching them on Discovery Channel, but it's also cool to know exactly what the doctor is talking about.

Jon Stewart's best political commentary since the '04 election season, when he appeared on Crossfire. Have at it.

"Karl Rove appears bitterly divided on the experience issue."

Sweet.

Anastasiya and I became owners of a lovely monochromatic cockatiel this weekend. He's still getting settled into our place, but the more comfortable he gets here, the more his personality shines through. His habits so far include singing in the morning or anytime he find himself in front of a mirror. He's also very narcissistic, often posing in front of the mirror and talking to his reflection. He loves Cheerios and has taken to flying around the room, then landing on Anastasiya's head or the top of the console. He seems particularly attracted to my From Hell DVD case, and it's only a matter of time before he poops on Johnny Depp's face.

I've had lots of pets in my life, but this is the first with wings, unless you count chickens, which I don't. Anastasiya has had a few parrots back in Ukraine, so she has lots of experience. I feel like a newbie in the bird-care department, but I got used to Nikki right away. I didn't know cockatiels had so much character and could be so sociable. Of course, sometimes he screeches like a pterodactyl right in my ear, but most of the time he's quite the charming bird. And his mohawk is longer than that of dying_misfit.

After several months of overtime (and a more or less sedentary lifestyle), I am finally able to get back into the gym now. That means going from one workout per week to one or two per day. I've realized that I'm basically reprogramming my body. Getting back into a cross-training routine that includes yoga, pilates, step, aerobics, bosu, and regular walking/elliptical has been a jolt to my system, but it's reassuring to feel muscle memory kick in. And then there are those lovely endorphins.

I find that once I've reached a certain level of fitness or flexibility, it's always easier to achieve it once again. The real challenge is to go beyond the ensuing plateau, which is where I will arrive in the next two to three weeks, just in time for classes to resume. The secondary challenge then will be sinking into a new regime that accomodates my teaching schedule.

I'd be in much better shape if only I didn't have to work.

Or drink.

Or smoke.

It seems like every vacation is a matter of finding a chemical equilibrium, and I always balance things out about a week before vacation is over. At that point, I'm basically in a holding pattern of comfortably sustainable inebriation. Then work has to throw everything out of whack again.

I spent some time on the phone this evening with Kevin Boze, author of The Virgin Project. I've been very excited about the prospect of inviting him to visit my classes this fall, so much so that I went so far as to assign The Virgin Project for every class I'm teaching.

After seeing Kevin and his work at SEAF this year I thought his book would be a lot of fun to teach, so I grabbed his card thinking I'd maybe even invite him to do a guest lecture or participate in a panel discussion. Tonight it turned out that he was even more excited about the possibilities than I. Towards the end of our talk he intimated that he originally wrote The Virgin Project in hopes of someone using it as a textbook. It looks like I turned out to be that someone.

The possibilities continue to percolate, and on that note maybe I'll leave you, my LJ friends, with a question. Assuming you're familiar with The Virgin Project, what would you most like to learn about it? Or what aspect of it do you find most interesting?

And then I ate them all.

A recent visit to my naturopath reveals that my metabolic age is 12.

Let's go ride bikes!

I've been a fan of Ann Magnuson for close to twenty years and have never had a chance to see her perform live, until tomorrow. She's playing at The Triple Door and promising a grab-bag of old and new numbers, including Bongwater and "Luv Show" material.



I think she will be worth the wait.

Anybody have suggestions about how to kill an afternoon in Las Vegas?

Challenge: no strippers, slots or SPF 1000 sunscreen.

"Wish you were here"

My legendary sensitivity to caffeine is reasserting itself once again, but a cup of velvety rich chocolate is worth the sacrifice of a night's sleep, I daresay. Let's see if I still stand by that when he alarm goes off this morning.

Meanwhile, this evening's storytelling courtesy of the uncannily normal-looking Chuck Palahniuk was a lot of fun. Some highlights for me included his anecdote about dialysis-induced hard-ons (in response to a question from quietpaul) and a reading from his upcoming novel, Pygmy, which was an interior monologue in broken English from the point of view of a 13-year-old foreign exchange student/assassin. I think reading the entirety of Pygmy will be an experience similar to Trainspotting, which had me thinking in Scottish brogue after two days' reading. He also read a chapter from Snuff, which was way deeper than I expected it to be.

During the Q&A, I appreciated Palahniuk's insight into his creative process. While developing a story, he doesn't conduct research per se. Instead, he just listens to people's stories. When he hears one that is shocking and/or fascinating enough, he interactively retells it to a variety of audiences and encourages them to elaborate for him. It's an organic storytelling method that exploits the oral tradition of storytelling and eventually arrives in print once the fully embellished story reveals itself. He also uses public readings like this evening's to refine his retelling of such stories in terms of pace, timing, tone and alliteration (which he discussed in some detail). It was enlightening to be part of the process.

I have two tickets for Nick Cave on 9/24 (21+), and I would like to trade them for tickets to the 9/23 show (all ages). Anyone interested? Anyone know anyone interested? If so, please message me or pass it along.

Thanks.

My continuing quest to plumb the esoteric mysteries of Russian, er, I mean Ukrainian(!) culture continues, thanks to dying_misfit.

"Freedom was the goal he was dreaming of."


GORBACHOV: THE MUSIC VIDEO - BIGGER AND RUSSIANER from Tom Stern on Vimeo.

(Follow the link to view the video in HD.)

. . . when your fiancée buys you the new Sigur Rós album twice on the same day.

On the way to the grocery store this afternoon, I got to pet a live alligator. It's skin was soooooo soft. I also learned that if one gently strokes an alligator's eyelids, it falls asleep almost instantly. Back at home, I tried this on Anastasiya, but to no effect.

This pretty much sums up today: