UK Pix -- Part 1

The Brookses go to Brighton
Sophie wears my hat with panache
Pop Art playground at the Tate Mod
Harry Potter lets it all hang out
"The calla lillies are in bloom again..."
The students jet-lagged but jazzed on their very first tube ride

More later!

UATW 7

Yes, home again home again, jiggety jig and a publication besides: Up Against the Wall is online with a spankin' new issue featuring all kinds of things you will want to read, watch and buy. I have a review of Bryan Talbot's Alice in Sunderland (more on that when I recap the trip), but you'll find all kinds of recommendations for your summer reading, so get those shopping lists out.

More news tomorrow -- I'm wiped out from three weeks in England (sigh!), a B&B Friday night, Elena's party Saturday and a stop by Robert's on the drive back home. Sleepy! But much to tell and I will get to it very soon.

Lazy

Yes, of course. So what have I been doing? Well, still in London, so busy would be the optimum word -- in short, let's see students on their way with a few last minute hiccoughs Friday, but mostly happy and rather sweet saying goodbye; out to Hanwell and welcoming friends the Brookses, Brighton Saturday with plenty of sun and no rumbles; a lovely day out Sunday and today, a bit of shopping, good food and a chance to relax. Tomorrow off to the City again, a few things to do -- time will tell how much. Returning Friday and the whirlwind will be over, although there's a night at the B&B to look forward to and Elena's party on Saturday.

Still haven't found a mug with Harry's mug on it yet, Robert...

Reviews and more when I get back home, but I don't plan to spend my holidays typing!

What was I thinking?

You know, the last time I got moules frites, I got very very sick. So you'd think I'd avoid them, but no -- they just sounded so good. Well, they went down well, along with some Leffe Brune. They came back up less well a few hours later. Ugh. Plus, knowing somehow with their finely attuned student sense that I had written complimentarily about them, the students decided to indulge in some freestylin' in the hallway about 1am. Not appreciated by me, nor I suppose, most of the people up and down the hallway. They were properly contrite this morning but that will mean nothing if it happens again. With luck, it won't.

It's raining again today -- of course, it's a holiday in Britain. That's the kind of luck that meant, too, that when I got to Liverpool Street to take the train up to see friends, that I found all the trains delayed indefinitely because of something on the tracks. It was irritating to me, putting my plans out, but I felt sorry for the people on their way to Stansted to catch a plane. I just Googled and found it is "overhead wire problems." Well, there you go.

Tomorrow's another day, as Scarlett would say. With luck there will be less rain, as we're off to the Globe which goes on rain or shine, just like the old days. Let's hope for more shine than rain. But I'm wearing a hat just in case...

Alice in Sunderland

Forgot -- I did go the Comics Art Museum and see the exhibit on Talbot's book which was quite nice and a companion exhibit on caricature which was a lot of fun.

The Story So Far

It's £1 per hour, so this will be brief (can't access blogger from the British Library, nor earthlink mail, sigh!). While today it is pouring, it has been sunny and warm most of the time, much to the students' delight. They survived the grueling first day where I kept them rolling until night -- some even recovered enough to go out that night. Fingers crossed, they have been mostly great and entirely responsible. Kudos to them for making the trip (so far!) a relatively low stress event.

Apart from leading them around to various places (see ukstrose.blogspot.com) I have seen Equus and Lord of the Rings. Can't write full reviews in such a short timte, but here's some sketchy comments:

EQUUS -- the crowd was full of young American gals waiting to see the full Potter. At the end of the first act I heard many grumbling because they thought he was going to get nekkid in the first act and they felt he had chickened out. HA HA -- I know the play, so I knew better. Stunned silence and giggles later. It's such a wonderful play, and the giggly gals missed the most amazing part -- Richard Griffiths as Dysart. He brings to the role both humor and pathos; I've only read the play and seen the film version with Burton, but I thought he was quite amazing (and I love Burton in the role). But Griffiths brings out the pain and the passion of the part much more. And yes, we did get to see naked Harry Potter/Danieal Radcliffe and there was no doubt as he leapt about the stage near the end of the play -- I do mean leapt. In fact, I think he was limping when he came back out for the curtain so I think he may have pulled something (cue Sam Pickering voice).

LOTR -- well. hmmm. Okay, a misguided idea -- not that it wasn't without some great things. The music was terrific -- the songs were atrocious, by which I mean the score music by Varttina and Rahman was beautiful and evocative; the songs were atrocious, suffering from terrible Broadwayitis. They do all sound like Spamalot's "There's always a song like this." Arwen sings three songs and that's her part; Galadriel more or less the same as she was with one song (cool costume though). No Eowyn, no Sauron. Few orcs -- although they do come out in the second interval (yes, second -- three hour running time) and menace the audience and got some good screams from surprised folks. Shelob and the Balrog looked quite good and the stage was AMAZING. Glad I saw it, but it will not be for the ages -- well, who knows. I think the Mousetrap is still running (except in Pakistan -- obscure joke) and people do love Cats and such. Really apart from the hobbits being too twee by half (Merry and Pippin seemed to have stepped out of a panto), there's the problem of constant expositio which does not make for good drama. I wonder how it seemed to anyone who did not already know the story -- is there anyone now who doesn't?

Tuesday, Othello at the Globe with Tim McInnerny (let's hope the rain has evaporated by then) and perhaps Midsummer Night's Dream at the Open Air Theatre Wednesday -- just like my first trip to London :-D Now that would be cool. I have spent a little time at the British Library so it hasn't all been play time -- and I do have other responsibilities, so I just cover the fun stuff here. More when I can write. Hope everyone is well!

London with the Rose

Finishing packing, trying to dry the shirt I forgot to wash until yesterday by wearing it, have to get to campus, send off bills and then -- of course -- drive to Boston with a couple of the Saint Rose students.

Yes, we have a blog. Not sure how often the students will be updating it, but I will try to do so at least occasionally. Less PR-oriented posts will go here, as always.

Fingers crossed that all will be well. I wish Gene could come with me! (So does he).

Boojum Blast

We headed out in time to arrive to help set up the hall for the circus. Perilous Cheryl had a vision and we carried it out (as best we could with our limited skills). Fortunately, the Queen and Johnny 10X arrived with a batch of scary clown pictures which dressed up the venue immensely. John Schwenk arrived for sound check and Gene got to reminisce about those Appendix days, playing roadie. Before we knew it, the peeps began to arrive. It wasn't a garden party, but everyone was there (well, anyone worth knowing). Yes, Elena was there in fine Pirateer form and Rod with his ironic (I hope!) Beetle Bailey hat. Ringmaster Cheryl kept everyone in line with her big black whip, and Joey of course looked smashing in his white tie, tails and fez (Gene's going to link to the Flikr photos, right?)

Miss Wendy arrived right on time, just about when Marko was ducking out -- too many commitments on one night but oh, choose wisely! You know we're going to talk about you when you're gone. We saw folks we hadn't seen in ages, some seen recently but not enough. 9th Wave started things off with groovin' surf tunes and the Gamma Rays rocked the joint hard with rockabilly tunes (including a ripping rendition of "Ring of Fire"). We were sweat-soaked and beer-fueled ($1.25 Longtrails!). In between, I gave in to my taste for doggerel and presented my birthday poem for The joey Zone, a Carrollian pastiche that went like this:

The Birthday of the Boojum:
A Celebration in Five Decades

“Just the time for a clown,” the wombat cried,
as she swallowed some amber brew;
The pair had arrived from a two hour ride
And knew what they all had to do.

“Just the time for a clown; I have said it twice,
That alone should enliven our crew.
Just the time for a clown, now I’ve said it thrice!
What I tell you three times must be true.

“’Tis a most special day, and all in this place
have come here to honor this Snark:
With thimbles and forks and presents and more,
We gather at this veteran’s park.

“The Butcher, the Baker, the Beaver, the Bellman
All have arrived here together;
And rumors abound of the various clowns
Who will join us (depending on weather).

“For the Boojum’s a creature who simply cannot
Be praised in a commonplace way.
So please all raise your jugs for this lovable mug,
Not a chance must be wasted to-day!”

Much was eaten, much spoken, shouted and hoarsely called, gifts given (and yes, opened the next day over the ensuing hours which made Gene ask, "are you sure there's a zero after the five in his age?"). Clean up of the hall was a breeze, many hands making light work, and we collapsed at chez Boojum, exhausted but happy, to awake under the eye of the Zuni fetish doll (to say nothing of the two Munchkins!).

Argh -- back this afternoon, a million and one things to do. Not quite packed, but getting up early. Hard to believe I'm off to England once more tomorrow, with a bunch of students to boot. Ay yi yi; how do I convince myself to do these things? As Ollie sez, "You get so weak from eating pears that you fall down, and then they come and take you away on a stretcher." Here's to eating pears!

Boojum Bound

We're running away to join the circus! Well, The joey Zone's circus birthday party, that is. Whoo hooo! This will be fun. After the stress of the last few days, it will be welcome fun to see everyone.

As verse 621 of the Tirukural reminds us, "Laugh when troubles come your way. Nothing conquers calamity better than that." Of course, if you want laughs you can always check out Elena's Goth Scout strip. Collect your merit badges and amaze your friends! Always fun -- and with luck, we'll see Elena and Rod today along with all the other of our gaggle of pals in Connecticut (yes, Miss Wendy, I'm bringing my checkbook!)

Funny hats, check! Sense of humor, check! Gifts for Joey, check! Not quite awake yet, but soon we'll be on our way to the dark carnival.

Banks: Evil or the Most Evil?

As frustrating as it has been dealig with various administrative problems at the College (thanks to Melanie in the Dean's Office, things improved after the previous low piont), it all pales next to the evilness of banks and Visa. I opened an account to manage all the funds for this trip; surely it would help not to muddy the waters between my money and the college's, I thought.

But an account with large amounts of money that also exit the account in large amounts "raises flags" as they say. So now that I tried to do one of the last things -- pay for the tickets at the Globe, I can't because their machine declines to accept my card. While it sounds like a polite Austenian phrase, it means that I can't get the tickets. The students are already looking forward to Othello (with Tim McInnerny!), so it is important to get the tickets, but neither my bank nor Visa will help.

It's a technicality that leaves me in a grey area. There's no hold on my account, they bank hastened to tell me, but it's been flagged because of the level of transactions. So, the Globe declines to accept a charge from that card, because they can. I guess the simplest thing is to charge it to my own account and transfer the money later. Of course, by the time I decided to do that (after many long conversations with the bank) the box office closed for the day.

So I'm having my soup, listening to Patti Smith's newest, and muttering dark utterings about banks.

News and Updates

While Elena suggests naughty habits of wombats, The Harvard University Gazette covers the folklore and witchcraft conference I attended, and Neil's got pictures of Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie's wedding. Oh, the craziness of me! Somehow, I will get everything done that I need to do before Monday, right? Oh, yes -- somehow. Then there's that circus on Saturday...

[Image thanks to www.ilikeseamonsters.com]

Pseudo Society, Film Stars and Too Much Work

We got back from Bradley Airport about 6pm last night, at which I sat down to finish the grading I had left behind. Yeah, I should have taken it with me, but jeez. That would have been heavy and no fun. I finished the last few this morning before beginning the summer class (ay yi yi -- not done with one term and another beginning). Not too surprisingly, the first class today (11.40-3.45pm yikes!) ended up dealing with a lot of the practical questions regarding the trip, including a visit from the study abroad coordinator who gave them a bunch of forms to fill out to release Saint Rose (and me) from any legal responsibility for them. Then we covered Beowulf. HA HA HA -- yes, in one class we covered the greatest of all Anglo-Saxon works. Ah well, that's what summer cram courses are all about. Tomorrow, Gawain.

At least I can remember Kalamazoo this year with a feeling of accomplishment and memories of fun. Of course, it helped that I was rooming with gal pal extraordinaire, Miss Wendy, the Patsy to my Edina. We also traveled to Kazoo with Faye Ringel, NE goth scholar of all things weird (no, that's not why she was traveling with us!) which made for a pleasant drive across mid-Michigan despite the rain.

We made the drop by at Waldo's to check on the UConn crowd, but already knew Thursday was going to be a busy day, so we didn't stay late. I had a lunch appointment and more changes to make to my papers -- even attended a few panels. The best was the panel on theory and medieval scholarship now although a bit crowded and getting a bit warm. The rain gave way to heat and humidity, always a bad thing at K'zoo. My first time attending I walked up to registration only to make way for a woman being carried out on a stretcher. Wow, that's some conference, I thought! Didn't know then about the cinderblock walls of the Valleys and their lethal retention of heat and humidity. Friday was even worse, but I braved the horror of Stinson Lounge to hear the Feminist and Queer Studies panel which was good. Of course, it's the wine hour where you can always be sure to find people. I caught up with pals like Carolyn Coulson. If you stand in one place at the wine hour, you'll see just about everybody sooner or later. I even had lunch with my pal Sandi (AKA the friend who gave us a little kitten named Kipper!) and caught up on things in Houston.

Saturday was looming ahead: the big day! There were some Societas Magica panels to attend and the business meeting, where my pal Scott and I handed over the nearly complete manuscript of a collection on Old English charms that we had received a positive indication on from the previous editor at Penn, so fingers crossed they still like the idea. If not, it's on to the next publisher.

Saturday afternoon was my first paper. The panel on American Popular Culture and the Middle Ages was put together by Ilan Mitchell-Smith and featured my paper on Black Knight, a paper by Kathleen Kelley on Shrek, and one by Stanley Lombardo on the parallels between King Arthur and Dances with Wolves. It was surprisingly well attended (a lot more people than at the last Old Norse paper I gave in K'zoo) and the audience was full of questions. We went out to dinner afterward to continue our conversations, which was great fun.

But I was real nervous about the Pseudo Society! When we headed over to Fetzer Auditorium after dinner, it was already chock full of people (45 minutes before the beginning of the panel!). I suppose the good thing was that many of them had a beer bottle or two in front of them; a woman who had given two previous presentations assured me how welcoming the crowds were. The three of us (all women, Phyllis Diller would be proud) were all a bit nervous but reassuring each other. Host Richard Ring was reassuring as well. The crowd was boisterous -- they started a new thing that has to have come from A Knight's Tale, the clapping to the beat of Queen's "We Will Rock You" when it was time for the show. The hooting, hissing (at bad puns, and Richard's opening remarks were chock full of them) and table pounding, however, was normal. Suddenly it was time (so glad I was going first). I was nervous at the start, and I corpsed like mad as soon as they all laughed at the first visual joke (start with the easy laugh: a reference to an otherwise unknown Anglo-Saxon comic strip about "a field-dwelling cat who does not relish the end of the Sabbath" then showing the slide of the Bayeux Tapestry with Garfield, er, Gar-feld photoshopped in). In a few minutes I had begun to relax, waited for the laughs to slow down before continuing and felt that it had gone okay. Everyone said as much. The woman after me had the best artifacts, including the bunny reliquary and the bunny around her neck. The photographer was trying hard to get a picture of her brandishing the bunny -- that would be the photographer from the Chronicle of Higher Education. Oh my -- he was taking pictures at the dance, too (oh my!). I'll have to see what shows up in their august pages. The final speaker presented a convincing argument that Chaucer had not died, but had been reincarnating in each generation and in fact now lives on as Bruce Springsteen (I'm not doing justice to her piece, trust me it was a real hoot).

After that, the dance was pure celebration. All the nervousness of the day slipped away and Miss Wendy and I both danced away until about 2 am (can you believe it) and had a blast. It was hard to get up and pack in the morning, but we consoled ourselves with a nice breakfast along the way back to Detroit. Ah, Kalamazoo.

Today: Pseudo Society

Today's the big day -- eek! Wouldn't you know I would have Phyllis Diller hair today. Oh well, maybe it will make people laugh. I'm in the computer lab printing out yet another version of the paper because I keep fussing with it. I should just leave it alone, but somehow I can't quite do so. Wish me luck!

Off to Kazoo

Tomorrow I hit the road for Kalamazoo fairly early, so I thought it best to write now in case I don't get a chance to do so then (and to give myself a break from the last minute edits et. al. that have been bedeviling me today). Extra stressful this time because 1) I have done too much travel this semester (and it ain't over yet) and 2) I am giving a paper in the Pseudo Panel.

For those of you who have never heard of it (that's most of you, I suppose), this is a traditional panel at the big Medieval Congress in which people give fake papers in the hopes of being funny. Saturday night, standing room only crowds, high expectations -- I never thought I would get on the panel, so I'm more than a bit terrified that my paper will fail to be funny and I get more and more nervous as I think about it. Somehow, I will survive.

Oddly enough, there seems to be a good deal of humor associated with Kazoo and medievalists, some of it from unexpected places, some from the usual suspects. I just hope it goes all right. Meanwhile, I have two finals today!

Forging Folklore

I knew things were looking good when I found a parking spot right in front of Raven Books in Harvard Square Thursday (especially since it's right next door to Planet Records). There was even 24 minutes left on the meter and only an hour left to cover (meter time ends at 6, so I was set for the night). I had a little time to browse before the reception to open the conference, so I made the most of it, but only bought one book (!) that day (let's not talk about McIntyre and Moore).

I was surprised to walk into the reception and immediately run into Joe Harris, whose course on Eddic Poetry at Harvard was an important formative experience for me (especially being then still an employee and not a "real" student); plus he's a great guy, creative and thoughtful. He was eager to know what I was up to and we had a good time chatting. I hunted up Peg Aloi, whom I had found to be an Albany neighbor as well as co-organizer of the conference. She was talking to keynote speaker Ronald Hutton, who also proved to be charming and approachable. I did kid him about Kylie and he was a good sport about it though it clearly was not what he had hoped to have happen in the program. We chatted quite a while, although many other people also wished to speak. I must say Hutton was quite generous with his time and attention -- sometimes keynote speakers come in for their piece and then leave, but he attended panels right up to the time he had to be spirited off to Logan. Good form!

Alas, Cheryl, I did not think of bringing books for him to sign! Ah, well. Another time perhaps.

Peg and Hannah Johnston put together a comprehensive conference with intellectual rigor and a wide variety of viewpoints that often led to spirited debate. They are to be congratulated for their hard work and thoughtful leadership. Thanks, too, go to Stephen Mitchell and Holly Hutchison from the Folklore and Mythology program at Harvard who sponsored and supported the conference (and Holly took care of the innumerable problems that always crop up in the midst of things -- kudos to her!). Stephen is, of course, the reason I became a medievalist. When I read Beowulf and Njal's Saga in his course on Northern Germanic Heroic Traditions everything changed. I've not been the same since!

My presentation seemed to go well; I was so nervous! I'm used to giving papers, but this was a little different. I've played my kantele in front of groups, but never in front of scholars. And I sang -- yes, me. It wasn't terrible (or so they told me) and it fit with what I was saying about Finnish magic traditions and the music of Värttinä. The audience really responded to the curses in particular, but the love charms got a good laugh as well. I will perhaps put the paper up here for folks to read if they have any interest (though of course it will lack the sound aspects). I may be writing up an account of the conference elsewhere, so I'll let you all know.

Travel within New England usually provides a chance to see friends and this trip was no exception. Thanks to Minna, Steve and Bowen for giving me a refuge in the expensive ambience of Boston. Too bad we didn't have more time for kantele duets! Much to my surprise, Bilokur did actually show and I got to see his latest project which looks like it has a lot of potential. The set up may sound more like a joke (okay, so there's a rabbi with a surfboard...) but it has a serious aim even if it makes you laugh, too (as all truly serious things ought to do). On the way back, I made the detour to CT to meet up with the Boojums and Miss Wendy for Cinco de Mayo celebrations at Cinco de Mayo, where we regaled neighboring tables with chat about turn of the century New Britain orphan deaths, cemetery tours and any number of charming topics. Then it was off to Aloha Alcohula, the world's best and most exclusive tiki bar to see the QOE, Johnny 10X and Marko (fez-less but destructive -- we told you it was going to break). Conversation ricocheted from waxing nostalgic about D.O.T.'s pantsless performances and the transformations of the El and Gee, to picking on Marko and viewing the Queen's latest crafty print (wicked cool). Then Miss Wendy and I stayed up late watching Enchanted April and gabbing as we do. A lazy Sunday morning, then back on the road to home, to see how much email had piled up in my absence and to be fawned over by Kipper and my sweetie. I slept like a rock last night and came in to my office this morning to face a stack of work. Argh.

Wednesday, I'm off again -- this time to Kalamazoo for the annual pilgrimage. Whew! Starting June 8, I'm going to be more stationary -- no, really.

Cambridge Bound

Hey, what's on Cute Overload today? Baby turtle?!

Off to Beantown this afternoon for the conference at Harvard with my kantele by my side, and a bunch of cds. We shall see how it goes -- if nothing else, it will be fun! I get to see Ronald Hutton (but will Kylie be singing in the background as she is during his interviews on Historyonics?).

Of course, the nice thing about a trip to the East is that I get to see friends in the Boston area, then in Connecticut on the swing back.

Better yet, it's the last day of classes --- whooohooo! Well, there's still finals, but that's less stress for me, and only revisions to grade for the most part.

Vappu

Not surprisingly, Helsingin Sanomat had some photos and a story on Vappu (May Day celebrations) in Helsinki yesterday. Although most people seemed to have fun, it appears that, "Portable toilet facilities were vandalised in Kaivopuisto on Monday night." Somehow I imagine teens spray-painting Lordi logos all over (although the band itself is notoriously well regarded). It's spring -- what can you do?

May Day with Jodorowsky

Today is the big day!

After thirty years or more of wrangling, ABKCO films releases the big box set of Alejandro Jodorowsky's films including El Topo and Holy Mountain. Once touted by people like John and Yoko, Jodorowsky's films have been more talked about than seen since the brouhaha with rights began, so this package brings these stories once more to a wide audience.

How to describe them? Or even Jodorowsky himself? One of the later surrealists, he dedicated himself to using art for both psychological and spiritual means as well as artistic. His films explore the ways we encounter the disruptions of life on a grand scale. His obsessions with mystic visions and physical deformity bring a strange ambience to his surreal cinematic works, like a strange melding of Todd Browning and Maya Deren. El Topo explores mysticism through the spaghetti western (and along the way critiques the construction of masculinity in Western culture) while Holy Mountain dives even deeper into the mystic to confront the horrors of modern life with a surrealistic spin that anticipates the complaisant acceptance of post-modernism (and this in the mid-1970s!).

The box also includes the seldom seen Fando y Lis as well as the soundtracks for both of the better known films. The images are crisp and clear and will be a revelation to those who have only seen the films via third generation bootlegs or much-worn 35mm. The films still pack a whallop* even all these years later. Vision is such a rare quality.

*Gentle viewers may want to be warned that films from this time period did not have the same RSPCA/ASPCA requirements. Much of the animal carnage is not simulated, which can be rather gruesome.

=-=-=-=-=-=

On an unrelated note, Elena continues her Wombat spoofing at Humorous Maxiumus. Go check out her comics for a good chuckle (any day!).

Spoofed!

Hee hee -- a badge of honor: we have been spoofed in Elena's very fine comic strip, The Goth Scouts, today. Whoo hoo -- we join the ranks of other proud spoofees like most of the Bush entourage (in a less kindly way), Johnny 10X and the joey Zone.

It's Walpurgisnacht (well, Walpurgismorgen?) which of course makes me think of the story I wrote with that title, which led me to a very nice comment about that story. Tomorrow is May Day, but I actually celebrated with friends yesterday at Peebles Island State Park (nice to have such a lovely park so nearby!). We even had a Maypole to dance around which, after a few glitches, weaved together nicely (I didn't think to take pictures, but here's the Bloomington Quarry Morris Dancers' finished Maypole). We even had a spiral dance that did not devolve into chaos (!) and, of course, lots of delicious food.

After that, sadly, I had to come home and grade. Ah well -- can't celebrate all the time.

Review: Hot Fuzz

We have been waiting a long time for this movie to be released, so it's a bit ironic that we didn't get around to seeing it until a week after its release. Life intrudes. But it was so worth the wait! We loved the previous Pegg and Wright projects Shaun of the Dead (aka the romantic comedy with zombies) and Spaced (the best surreal, pop culture-fueled sitcom ever), so it was a good guess that we'd like their cop spoof as well. I was laughing so hard tears came to my eyes. Yes, it was that good.

The first few minutes are a wild ride of "spot the British comedian" with uber-serious, robotic PC Nicholas Angel finding his superb record of accomplishments has made the rest of the force look bad, as his immediate superior (Martin Freeman) points out. Refusing to believe that he would be transferred to a tiny country village for doing well, he asks to speak to his superior's superior, who turns out to be Steve Coogan (uncredited as far as I could tell) who then appeals to his superior, (played by the always wonderful Bill Nighy). The list of who's who goes on and on (some nice surprises, like Bill Bailey), but it's just one highlight.

Of course at the center of the film is Simon Pegg, playing against type, and Nick Frost who has a lot more puppy-like sweetness to his oafish sidekick than in their pairing in Shaun (Ed might have been hilarious, but he wasn't very lovable). While Nicholas has lived the life of the action hero, Danny has only seen the films. Their unlikely friendship builds as Nick tries to learn the ropes of village life and Danny, whose position seems to rest on his father being chief of police, finds he has a lot more to offer than anyone thought.

Which could be any cop/buddy picture, but they're spoofing the whole genre -- and it works. It works because they know the genre, just like in Shaun of the Dead, which was one long homage to their favorite horror films, but also because they make a satisfying story in the genre that is both gut-bustingly funny (whodathunkit? Timothy Dalton is a hoot) and an exciting action film. The attention to detail is key; everything that seems to be there just for a laugh has a payoff, even the casting of Edward Woodward (but don't click that link unless you want a subtle spoiler). As you might expect from the zombie fans, the moments of horror are truly gruesome yet inevitably funny, too.

I highly recommend it -- you'll laugh so hard, but you'll also get caught up in the story. Keep your eye on the swan and don't forget to water your peace lilly.

Hélène Cixous

It was a delight to go hear Cixous read at SUNY Albany last night. My colleague and I arrived early and got parking. There was even time to run to the library to pick up a book I wanted. I was reluctant to cut short my grad class (AKA my reason to go on living this semester--let's not talk about the freshman class who make me pull my hair out) but I knew I would regret passing up a chance to see this inspiring scholar/writer who seems to effortlessly accomplish so much.

It took no time at all for the room to be packed. We had the usual rambling introduction from the permanently rumpled Donald Faulkner (like I should talk), then a second introduction (whose name I did not catch) who tried to fit a lifetime of scholarship into a few paragraphs. Cixous read first from her autobiographical book The Day I Wasn't There, a section focusing on the memory of seeing a three-legged dog in the bois on May Day (Abandonment day) that looked like a "Tintin dog" [hence the picture of Milou above] and eagerly searched faces for a place to belong. Cixous of course reflected somewhat ambivalently on this moment; born in Algeria, stripped of French citizenship during the war because she was a Jew, living and celebrated now in France, she does not have a "home" as she corrected a questioner later. "Ask Beckett," she said by way of explanation, mentioning other writers who found themselves in exile for one reason or another.

After reading a couple of dreams from another book ("we should not read dreams in translation, but we will") she anwered questions about her writing process. She is so precise about everything, it was interesting to hear that she writes "like a painter," longhand at a desk full of "tens, no, hundreds, no, thousands, no, tens of thousands" of scraps of paper of all sizes with 50 or so pens and pencils. For ten hours or more at a stretch, she just writes and writes "with the sun" -- such luxury! My colleague and i were talking about how hard it is to imagine having that kind of time to write (and whether we could use it--shades of the writer's colony!). "I have about four computers, but they're all virtual."

I am glad I went to hear her read, to hear her speak. It has filled me with hope again after a rather discouraging couple of weeks or so. To hear her speak with such confidence, self-assurance -- never arrogant, not that, but certainty that her writing is important, that she will find herself in good company with Hugo and Flaubert. I think we tend to lack that sense of history in our writing in this country, that there's a discomfort with the same past that Cixous feels herself to be in active dialogue with as she writes. Speaking of Hugo's careful columns (writing on the right, corrections on the left, "and there were almost none!") and Flaubert's endless rewriting, revisions of single sentences, Cixous was clear that she fit into neither extreme: "I am idiosyncratic, untranslatable." Though, of course, she has been translated many times. In fact one of her translators was there that night, prompting Cixous to say "translators are heroes" as well as "adoptive mothers." In the end, "we are all translators," trying to get wht is in our heads to others as precisely as possible. Writing, revision--I was intrigued by her simple assurance that in writing, like music, you can always hear the "false note." I would like to think so, but I guess I doubt myself too much to feel that same sense of confidence. Something for me to work on. Cixous is a great example for an unapologetic intellectual in the 21st century who simply works to the best of her ability and has confidence that her work is worth doing.

Prose at the Rose -- on the Air!

Listen to the first broadcast of my new show hosted at the internet radio station at the College of Saint Rose. I'm interviewing Hudson Valley Writer's Guild president, Donna Miller, about the Guild and about her writing. I haven't had a chance to hear it yet, and probably won't as I have my usual crazy Tuesday schedule and Hélène Cixous tonight (more on that later). Although the schedule for the program will be irregular for a while, it will be an on-going series.

Not My Job

As I sit here regretting that I ever volunteered myself to take a group of students to London next month and dealing with all the endless details that go with it, I realise it's part of an overall sense of exhaustion that's making me pull back from things I really don't need to be doing. Among them:

Correcting someone online who names the wrong group as performer of a 60s pop song;

Pointing out to someone (again, online) that when Hamlet says something is "a consummation devoutly to be wished" he is talking about death and oblivion;

Arguing with someone (on yet another online list) that pro-2nd amendment sites may not be the most "fair and balanced" sources re: gun control.

I do have work to be doing, yet it is also a gorgeous Earth Day and the temptation is to be outside ignoring all this work. Maybe it's just time to remind myself again that I don't have to do everything, I don't have to be responsible for everybody and ignorance is my job only in the classroom. I don't like to see it elsewhere, but sometimes I just have to let it go. It's the law of diminishing returns, and besides, no one else cares about these things. Think of it as trying to avoid becoming too much like Bottom.

I don't have to play all the parts just because I have ideas for them. I do not need to say, "Take pains; be perfect: adieu." Instead, let us say, "take pains, but be reasonable, be seeing you."

A Blow on a Bruise

Campuses across the country are reeling still from the worst gun massacre in the country (the horror is that we must add a silent "so far"). We struggle to understand, stagger to find there were people we had met (the world gets smaller and smaller) and try, in vain, to understand. All those lives, those lights cut short -- and the call for anger, for vengeance, for sorrow. Sanctimonious leaders ask us to pray while they close their eyes to legislation that might make it a little more difficult for a troubled person to amass an arsenal without flags being raised. Instead they'll continue to leech rights from the innocent, all in the name of protecting us, as they have done for the last six year, and the numbing pain continues.

This incident has particular repercussions for those of us in the education field -- yes, particularly those of us in English Departments, and even more, those who teach creative writing. One of the shooter's fellow classmates posted his writings -- a highly suspect thing to do regardless of one's honorable motives -- and there was a deluge of comments about how clear it was that he was disturbed and his teachers were negligent in not recommending him for counseling (the latter not true).

Ridiculous: shall we lock up anyone who writes horror novels and films with their "really twisted, macabre violence"? Let's get Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez behind bars now! Here's the thing -- and it's a little thing called imagination. It has a lot of power. But power can be used for any aim. I had a student in one creative writing course who wrote macabre horror where she killed her boss over and over in imaginative ways. It was a good outlet for dealing with a boss who treated her with disdain in a job she could not afford to lose. Imagination has the power to help us transcend the pain and loss of our lives. We need to use it, not hound it out of existence.

The world is not a safe place; the world will never be a safe place. Let's not hide behind our locked doors, regulate every inch of our bodies and live in festering darkness. Honor those who are gone with light and hope.

Water Foul

Hey -- our basement's flooded so the hot water heater's pilot has been put out. Our landlord's down there now (I'm sure it's just how he pictured his Sunday night) snaking out the drain to see if it will clear the water. All the rain flowing down our hill in its search for the Hudson decided to make a detour and flood us. At least it can only get a few inches high before pouring out the door and toward the road (and better yet, that the furnace is above water level, so we have heat). Looks like a job for Kuan Yin!

The good news is I got a call from Laurel who had called me last week from the ICU to say she was going to miss PCA. Relieved to know that she's much improved and sounds like her usual self. I cheered her by saying that her tale even beat out the panelist who came late to her session, apologizing with "I was hit by a truck."

Life's a dangerous thing.

Give it up for Lent!

One of the pleasures of this year's PCA was presentation of the Interplanetary Journal of Comic Art to its inspiration, international comics scholar John Lent. While I couldn't attend myself (due to chairing another panel at the same time, argh!) everyone took pictures of Gene and Wendy presenting the posters (including one of the back cover by Ralph Steadman [fan girl moment, "I'm in a book with Ralph Steadman!"]) and the festschrift to John, who was apparently touched almost beyond words. When I saw him shortly after he was still sparkling with joy. His wife Ying said that he stayed up late that night reading it cover to cover. Comics folks from around the world contributed to this hilarious book in honor of the man who really forged a trail in comics scholarship. Kudos to Mike Rhode for doing all the hard work of coordination, editing and whip cracking over the slow contributors.

Prose at the Rose

I taped (er -- digitized, I guess) my first espisode of a new show that will appear on Saint Rose's Internet Radio Station. While it doesn't get access to the traditional airwaves, it will be accessible anywhere on the 'net. I'll let you all know when it is up. We do have a logo! I need to get a blurb written for Fred Antico, my colleague in Communications, but soon it will be live.



And you'd be surprised at the other luminaries in the Saint Rose ether...

Waaah!

We didn't hear until this morning -- the world is a poorer place without his singular voice. Which was the first book for me? Maybe Slaughterhouse Five, maybe Sirens of Titan, but surely Breakfast of Champions was my introduction to the post-modern before I knew there was a name for it. I remember Emfinger writing in my high school yearbook, "Always read Vonnegut!" or something along those lines (along with all the other incendiary opinions we shared). One piece of advice I have always heeded over the years. Sigh. So it goes...

Happy Birthday, Gene!

Thanks to Thee joey Zone!

Beer and Loathing at PCA

We were somewhere around Boylston on the edge of the deserted streets when the doubts began to take hold. There were no huge bats swooping and screeching and diving around us, but we had definitely taken a wrong turn. We knew for sure when our pints of Guinness arrived in 12 oz plastic cups. The waitress said "we ran out of mugs," and I expected her to suddenly turn into a vomiting green-hued lizard, but no such luck. We had decided to sally forth to find an alternative to the hotel bar, whose $11 martinis and flowing beer welcomed us the night before, but looted our pockets, too. Besides there was the piano player whose repertoire included bizarre choices like Paul McCartney's "Every Night" that left its mark in my brain for three more days, repeating helplessly the inane chorus, "ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo, ooo ooo, ooo ooo," like a tape loop from the depths of Gehenna.

Our first attempt, however, landed us in what looked like a promisingly inexpensive dive but instead featured plastic beer cups and music that proved deadeningly moronic in its assault. Rabbitting away as soon as the first round was consumed, we reeled around the corner to the more welcoming wooden warmth of Charley's and settled in for more amenable surroundings, the promised beer and the occasional spit-take brought on by just a little too much silliness. Lingering until last call, we had plenty of time to chat with old friends and get to know some new ones. We intrepid few, still wandering abroad afterward sidled over to King's because Miss Wendy was craving some food. She and I had gone to breakfast at Thornton's so we kind of skipped lunch (not to mention playing hooky afterward to go to the Brattle Book Shop) and there had been no real time for dinner. When we finally got back to our hotel around 2 am, our neighbors were having a loud party. Hurrah -- and I had a 7 am meeting to go to. Consequently a little dim and punchy the next morning, but there was a breakfast service with lots of tea, fruit and pastries, so I slowly woke up and recovered some semblance of humanity.

The conference went very well -- about 800 panels over four days. Not a howler in my area, which is always good to see. I checked out some of the comics panels, one horror panel (yawn) and couple of other things, but with so many panels in the area I run (Medieval Popular Culture) there wasn't as much free time as I have had in the past. I had to miss the sword fighting demonstration that I had set up with the help of Amy West of the Higgins Armory Museum because it was opposite one of Gene's presentations, but I suppose it's better to have an abundance of riches. Or so I tried to think as I spent the day grading papers after stretching out the conference to stay at Wendy's Saturday night and Robert's last night (mmmmm, tasty tapas!), so that we finally got home this morning to Kipper's voluble delight.

Three weeks to the next conference -- what was all that noise I made about doing less?

Next: the mind-bending experience that was the Korvac panel...

Publication: Up Against the Wall 6

(When's the last time I let a week go by without a post?! Blame lies on the narrow shoulders of the Midtown Hotel, whose internet service did not in fact work.) I have two reviews in the latest issue of Up Against the Wall, Phil Nutman's magazine of pop culture with teeth. Enjoy -- and yes, there'll be a recap of Boston later (maybe even today).

Oxford: City of Aquatint

Let me get a few of the pictures up if nothing else (Radcliffe Camera pictured above), so you can share a little of the beauty of this medieval center of learning. Oxford and Cambridge were the first universities in England; Chaucer's "Clerk of Oxenford" would likely have learned his trivium and quadrivium and gone into the priesthood. Nowadays, the beauties of Christ Church College at Oxford (below left)are primarily known as Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films.

The time I happened to be there, it was also host to the Oxford Literary Festival (which is how I saw Philip Pullman). But it will always be the home of Alice and Lewis Carroll also. You never know when you might come across just the right rabbit hole (this one found in Christ Church meadow).

As you wander around town, there are endless beauties to see -- in fact, there are endless grotesques, too, which for some of us is at least as much fun. I took a lot of pictures of them (naturally) but this travelogue will have to be spread out over several days, so here's one to start on. If I recall correctly (uh oh, already forgetting where I took what picture) these rams come from St. Mary the Virgin's church.

Neglect

Apologies for being so neglectful of the blogs -- I plead illness and the hectic week that my going away created. We had an all day symposium for the department Thursday which led to increased illness, as I was completely exhausted and feverish by the afternoon. All went well, as far as I could tell, but I ducked out around 4.

I spent yesterday resting or at least trying to do so; many things looming over my head make that difficult. Inevitably there's always too much to do in the latter half of spring term, much of which, yes, I have brought upon myself. The London trip with the students is making me pull out my hair; my paper for next week's conference is not complete. At least my major paper for Kalamazoo was written last fall (if only I were always that early), but I have to edit that paper because it is still too long and finish the second paper (more about that later).

I have pictures from Oxford -- they'll be up soon! It was a wonderful visit and I just can't get enough time in England, particularly Oxford. Hmmm, wonder if they will be needing a new medievalist soon? There's always some kind of stress, eh?

Publication: Palakainen

Almost forgot! While I was gone the issue of New World Finn with my short story "Palakainen" arrived. This is another of the Unikirja stories. I am hoping to complete the collection (at last!) this summer (along with the Anglo-Saxon project).

Home Again

No time to post much today, but I did have a great time, the paper went well, the conference was terrific, and Oxford --

Sigh.

Oxford was great. Must find a way to get back there for a longer visit! In the meantime, visit the Botanic Garden, as I did (yes, of course, to see the ivy), and enjoy.



And for all your finest graphic design needs, why go anywhere else but England's finest design firm, Sequential Design!


(This commercial message brought to you because Brad and Liz and Sophie are always so generous with their home; sorry it was only a whirlwind visit this time, but see you in May!)

Off to Oxford

There will proabably not be time for posts this weekend (including the serial) as I am off to Boston, to catch the plane to Halifax, to catch the plane to Heathrow, to catch the coach to Oxford.

Sounds tiring, eh? Cheap flights have another cost. But at present, cheap flights are the only option (memo to self: play lottery).

I will be giving a paper on Tove Jansson's Moomin comics. The conference looks like it will be much fun. Of course, having the chance to wander around Oxford -- land of Alice, Dodgson, Charles and Sebastian, and for that matter, Alan and Dud -- will be wonderful, too.



Here are some deer in the park next Magdalen College, Oxford (though I'll be at Pembroke).

Welcome Spring -- and Wallace Shawn

Spring takes a little faith when you've still got a foot of snow on the ground; I had to dig a space for my car on campus this morning. Good thing I put the shovel in the car yesterday.

More enjoyable was a chance to see Wallace Shawn at UAlbany yesterday, an event sponsored by the New York State Writer's Institute. I decided that the afternoon seminar might be the better of the two events, and I think I was right. No doubt the evening event was packed, because the recital hall was even in the middle of the afternoon.



After a too long introduction (though to be fair, he has quite a long list of accomplishments) by NYSWI Director Donald Faulkner, there was a sudden moment of awkward silence as he and Shawn each waited for the other to start. No surprise, everyone laughed. That happened a lot, as you might imagine (though if you don't know who Shawn is, which I find inconceivable, check here). Faulkner first asked about the last play he had been doing, The Fever. It had a difficult life and reception, beginning as a monologue performed at friends' houses largely because Shawn sought to remove that distancing effect of theater, such as when people see disturbing scenes and appreciate them only aesthetically. When he finaly decided to do it in a small theater, Shawn decided to hold a cocktail party on stage before the performance begins.

Mental note: next play, write a scene with champagne in it so I, too, can get free bubbly from a fine vintner! and what about some chocolate...?

Not surprisingly, one of the first questions from the audience was regarding My Dinner with Andre, where many of us first saw Shawn.** He spoke about the freewheeling process by which the basic script was developed, then the onerous process of editing down the conversation transcripts into "something with a beginning, middle, end and characters."

Shawn commented on the reception and difficulties of his play Aunt Dan and Lemon. In its first incarnation in London, there had been strong tensions within the cast -- and with him. He was eventually banned from rehearsals. But it went on to a strong reception, despite its worrisome topics, including a character enamored of Nazism. Shawn remarked somewhat ironically that he had yet to have someone come up to him after the play and say "Wow, weren't the Nazis great?" but he frequently had other people come up to him worried that that would happen (presumably with other, more stupid people).

Asked about how he got into acting, Shawn explained that it was all due to his ignorance about how to make a living (he mentions borrowing from friends for a long time, and said you might think there was shame involved in borrowing money from friends, "No.") As for choosing roles, "Well, let's not kid ourselves," he cautioned first, but usually he reads the whole script "and if it's not nauseating, I do it." You'd be surprised, he said, "a lot fit into the nauseating category, most are evil." Even if a film is not too good, it can be fun to make, as long as you don't pass out at the table reading from a truly awful script.

I think one of my grad students was going to the evening event; I'll have to ask how it was. I'll probably regret not going, ah well.

**My story (one last time, I've told this too many times): I went to see this at the Odeon, the first art house film theater I knew. In the unpromising location of the Frandor Mall, it was clearly a labor of love for the guys who ran it. When the audience for this film arrived, the manager came down to the front of the audience to let us know that there was a problem with the third reel. Although the picture was fine, there was no sound for about a minute or so. He unfolded a piece of paper with the dialogue from that section and read it out to us. You can only imagine how strange it sounded out of context: something about being buried alive! The film began and we all forgot about it until the reel started without sound and, naturally, everyone burst out laughing in the middle of the very intense scene. I just love that the theater staff were so fanatical about getting us the whole experience that they created a new one.

Which Goddess are You?

Take the quiz here. Perhaps not too surprisingly, I am:



Athena's brilliance of reason was said to be as penetrating as her clear gray eyes. One of the most powerful of the gods and goddesses, her artistry in all crafts, especially weaving and pottery, was unrivaled. Goddesses with similar attributes include Sarasvati, Sophia and Brigit.

Well, I don't know about pottery! But I can weave words.

This is a lovely image from Kris Waldherr's tarot deck which you can see online.

Good News!

My abstract has been accepted for the "Forging Folklore: Witches, Pagans and Neo-Tribal Cultures" conference at Harvard May 3-5, 2007. I'll be speaking on Finnish magic and music which ought to be entertaining. Of course, I'll find an excuse to bring my kantele along as well. I had planned to attend the conference anyway as it has a great set of folks, including Ronald Hutton who will be keynote speaker Thursday night of the conference.

[image © Timo Kervinen]


The Joey Zone is happy: he got name-checked in Elena's Goth Scout strip on Sunday!

Less good: lack of plowing on campus (and Albany streets) meant I could not find a place to park today, so I finally gave up and came home to work. Good thing I can do almost all my work from home -- except for the office hours. Sorry, students! At least I don't have any meetings scheduled today. Besides, I would have had to leave early for my doctor's appointment anyway. Perhaps tomorrow I need to bring the snow shovel and dig out a parking space for myself. Let's hope the melting starts soon!

Neighborly

We got about a foot of snow since yesterday. I volunteered to go out first and start the shoveling (mostly so Gene could finish it ;-) but we got really fortunate that one of our neighbors was passing by with his snow blower, saw me shoveling and ran a couple of paths each side of the car and then up to the steps where I was shoveling. Made things a lot easier -- what a nice guy!



I was also lucky enough to have the Joey Zone sing his new shoveling-on-St. Patrick's-day song over the phone (no, I can't do it justice here; you'll have to wait for the MP3). Guess I have the luck of the Irish today (the good kind, that is)!

Happy St. Urho Day!

Yes, it is time to celebrate St. Urho, the patron saint of Finland (and Finnish Americans), the man who chased the grasshoppers away from the vineyards of that land, saving the harvest with his pitchfork and the effectively dismissive words, "Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, meine täättä hiiteen" or "Grasshopper, grasshopper, get thee hence!"

Wear your purple and green proudly and chase the grasshoppers away today (or that nasty snowstorm that's threatening the northeast today)!

Oh, to be in England

Now that spring and Alan Moore are there --

Moore will be performing at a tribute to the late Robert Anton Wilson this Sunday. In April he will be giving a talk at the Northampton Museum and Art Gallery on"Magical Northampton":

Native psychogeographer, occultist and legendary graphic novel writer Alan Moore was “born in Northampton in 1953 and never left”. Alan will discuss local superstitions, myths and fables recreating the magical landscape of the town and its shire.



I shouldn't complain. I will be heading off to Oxford next week for a whirlwind visit where I'll give a paper on Moomin: The Complete Tove Jansson Comic Strip - Book One. It will be fun to explore the land of Lewis Carroll!

IROSF Boskone Review On Line!

Head on over to the Internet Review of Science Fiction for my write up of Boskone 44 and a whole lot of essays, interviews and reviews!

Forthcoming Publications

N.B. I have had to finally join the herd at Google, so let's hope it doesn't have any effect on the blogs. The Google dashboard is supposed to be "better" -- we'll see.

Just got word today that my short humorous piece, "Corrections to the Rules for Fimble Fowl (for 3 or 4 Players)," will appear in the next issue of Wild Violet. I've sort of wandered back to humor by roundabout ways (as is, I realize, typical of my life). I have another piece out there with hat in hand, looking for a place to live, so we'll see what happens with that.

The ever fabulous Phil Nutman liked my hastily written review of Terry Gilliam's Tideland, which should appear in the next Up Against the Wall along with my review of Jade Warrior (which I am finishing, I promise, Phil!).

Coming up soon, too, is "Palakainen," a story based on the Kanteletar murder ballad of the same name. It will be in the pages of New World Finn, whose editor, the wonderful Gerry Henkel, has long been a supporter of my work on Unikirja (Dreambook), the collection of stories inspired by Finnish myth and legend.

Spring break is over and work awaits -- sigh! So much to do; I have to clear my mind of all the wild ideas I put there over the break.

Review: 300 (AKA Beefcake-orama)

In our unending quest to see just about every comics-based film that comes out, we headed off yesterday afternoon to the see Zack Snyder's 300, based on the comic by Frank "Sin City" Miller and Lynn "Colorist Extraordinaire" Varley. It's received some scathing reviews, like A. O. Scott's which called it "as violent as Apocalypto and twice as stupid," but given the NYTimes scorn for anything not mimetic we didn't really take it all that seriously.



The central story takes place at the battle of Thermopylae, where the titular 300 Spartans face the massive army of Persia headed by self-proclaimed god, Xerxes (played with great vigor and costume by Rodrigo Santoro). The king of Sparta, Leonidas, becomes our focus with an introductory tale of his childhood path to warrior and king, and of course, eventually to become Gerard Butler, last seen as a terrific Beowulf in a very silly film. While it's a bit distracting to have a Scottish Spartan, it becomes less odd when he's joined by Welsh and Australian Spartans, notably the effective Vincent Regan, as his fiercely proud Captain, and the lovely David Wenham as guttural narrator, Blinky, er, Dilios. Lena Heady gets more of a part in the film than the comic as the tough but lovely Queen Gorgo (no, not that Gorgo).

Yes, we have nipples a-plenty with the few female figures (so to speak) in the film; but most of the film is a paen to the male figure -- oh, and the glory of combat fueled by honor. In a nutshell, fighting for freedom good, slavery bad. But that's just one aim -- what the film achieves is a romanticizing of the battle for freedom against all odds. While in our current climate, this would seem to be a thinly veneered commentary on existing wars (particularly given the racial politics as mostly Caucasian Spartans face an enemy of color and often, apparent disabilities), it really seems to be the artist's cri de couer against those who would subvert his vision, particularly in the case of slimy sell-outs like the oozingly slippery Theron, played by Dominic "Spice World" West.

While Miller clearly wants to glorify the clarity of purpose of the Spartans, there is more to it than that. It's easy to make these kinds of arguments about the past, when all the troubling detail has been stripped away by time. I recall the seemingly endless line of films about World War II and the conquest of the West that played on television while I was a child, all the time the very real Vietnam war ran on the news. I suspect that people were longing for a clarity of purpose missing from the real war at the time, but I also see a clear message of "war is hell" that came across in those films, the terrible loss that they all conveyed -- especially by odd films like Hornet's Nest. There's a romantic notion about the manner of one's death being as important as the manner of one's life, that our craven current culture might be less sanguine about embracing, but 300 really comes across as the declaration of the artist under fire who sees his life as bearing arms against an endless sea of troubles.

All of which may seem a bit heavy handed for a film that's really about shiny beefcake (sorry, Cheryl, nary a hairy chest to be seen), but I felt a sympathy for this film that doesn't jibe with my inherent pacifism (there's cartoonish violence a plenty, too, which I take with equanimity). While the real star is Butler's well-honed six pack abs (I have to note, though, that I think some of the other actors' abs looked digitally enhanced, especially Wenham's at the end), the struggle of vision and personal truth against the edict to bow down and kneel to the prevailing powers (whether markets or gods) does appeal to me (that and the drum heavy soundtrack).

And then, of course, there's the beefcake! Steve Reeves, eat your heart out.

Happy International Women's Day!

Don't forget to thank the women around you for being so fabulous, then take a moment to explore the wonders of Women's History Month. Take a great woman to lunch today!

Absolutely Fabulous Women

Jam & Jerusalem: Soon to be playing here on BBC America as "Clatterford", "Jam & Jerusalem" is the brainchild of the always hilarious Jennifer Saunders. This new series takes place in the small country vilage of Clatterford St. Mary, where the Women's Guild rules with an iron fist -- well, perhaps only with knitting needles and baking trays. It has the cream of the crop of women in British comedy, which of course includes Saunders' pals Dawn French and Joanna Lumley, as well as Pauline McLynn looking very un-Mrs. Doyle. It was almost a little distracting noticing everybody who was in the first episode, but it was quite a hoot and we laughed out loud several times. So it's a bit of a mystery why it has been lambasted by so many in Britain as "unfunny" -- are you kidding?! Perhaps the absence of a laugh track threw people off who don't know that they should laugh when something's funny (as opposed to when the laughtrack tells you to do so, e.g. when we tried to watch the Rob Corddry sitcom which had a relentless laughtrack primarily, it seems, because there was nothing at which to laugh). Perhaps it was the predominance of 40+ women that threw them off--women who are damn funny but not (for the most part) youngsters with cleavage--what is this? A world of Christopher Hitchenses? Or is it just because it's not AbFab? Well, duh. Do yourself a favor and check it out.



Ulla Suokko: The lovely flute player/storyteller/healer and friend Ulla Suokko plays tomorrow night in the city as part of "Fuerza -- El Swing del Flamenco!" with the Oscar Valero Flamenco Dance Company. They'll be performing Wednesday, March 7, 2007 8pm, tickets are $25 and available at the Jewish Community Center Manhattan Box Office (646-505-5708 or www.jccarts.org), 334 Amsterdam Ave at West 76th St. New York. I can guarantee you a wonderful time! What better way to shake off the late winter blues?

Mexicali / Mini

Saturday night we met up with the Crispinus clan for a little Mexican feast downtown. Our recent attempts to enjoy Mexican food in the area had proved to be less than successful, ranging from the bland to the down right awful. We were very pleased to find El Mariachi neither. It was nice to sit down to some good chips and salsa (complimentary -- take note, Jose Malone's; they were also fresh). The staff were quick to refresh both when the Saratoga crew ran a little late due to soccer and sickness (hope you're feeling better Kaitlin!), but we got our orders in and a good bottle of wine and before we knew it, the guacamole arrived. I could have done without the nest of iceberg under it, but the guac was tasty. Our entrees arrived shortly after we finished the appetizer (good timing) and wow -- hefty! Gene got the mole chicken and I think he got the pick of the litter. I tried a little of his sauce and it was good. I had steak enchiladas with red sauce. The marinade for the meat was a touch salty, but the flavor was terrific. We all enjoyed our food and, of course, gabbing endlessly (where we all discovered the myriad reasons why Dan has not won father of the year yet [AKA why you should not dunk your daughter head first in the snow], some hints about Gene's 18th birthday party, the girl with a squirrel's arm, and why it's good to have grad school behind us). We loitered long at our table without any signs of impatience from the staff -- indeed, we got a complimentary round of digestifs, which proved a nice surprise. We'll definitely be back.

Today we enjoyed not having to get up and go anywhere early (other than Gene running out for the papers), but we did muster the energy to head over to SUNY Albany for The eXtensible Toy Piano Festival. Despite the stronger bite in the wind, it was quite a pleasant day and our first time at the Performing Arts Center. It was a lot of fun, with a broad variety of compositions, played on the lovely toy pianos as well as sampled on a lovely PowerBook (I say as one who has both toy pianos and a PowerBook). They ended the concert with John Cage's Music for Amplified Toy Pianos (can't find that online, but you can listen to his Suite for Toy Piano). Cage was the first person to give serious thought to composition for toy piano; this piece offers a bit of randomness with the original score being written on transparent sheets which were combined to give a unique score. The ensemble updated the process by turning the sheets into a Quicktime movie file which they projected on a screen both they and the audience could see. Great fun!



Buy this cd! It is amazing!

I've been trying to be productive this spring break (whoo hoo, spring break!) which I suppose really begins tomorrow when I don't have my normal repsonsibilities; so far I have managed to complete a story that I have been working on for ages (actually began it back at the writer's colony!), but I hope to get more done (including a revision of an essay due Tuesday, eek). We stopped to watch the Simpsons, which had one of their more bizarre episodes that careened from a sudden and vaguely Gorey-esque style, to a pastiche/parody of The Sound of Music, to Marge's dream of James Patterson (voiced by James Patterson), to name-checking Dario Fo(!), with a nod to Un Chien Andalou and -- what?!

Stephen Sondheim? Stephen Sondheim?!

Singing a jingle for Buzz Cola, no less! Just when you think the Simpsons have gone beyond the beyond, they snap back with something truly insane. Hurrah!

Goth Scouts Rule!

Run your browser over to Humorous Maximus to catch the ever brilliant and utterly silly Elena Steier's Goth Scouts cartoons. See the Goth gals get physical in the basketball sense. Use the calendar on the bottom to see previous strips from her. Elena's got a wealth of political cartoons, too, so drop by and check them out!

Misheard Today

"Ninety year old lobster pleads guilty to racketeering..."

Uh... not quite. Real story here. Too much grading, I think.