Valentines Day. I don't have an ardent attitude toward the holiday. I have developed a few traditions, namely to start a new book and to do some activity that is abnormal. Yesterday was 75 degrees, and I sat reading Devil to Pay in the Backlands by Joao Guimaraes Rosa (What is called the Ulysses of South American Literature) all while obnoxious steam-boat music played over their steam-organ pipes belting dilapidated renditions of 'What a Wonderful World.'
After teaching I ran into a few co-workers on the walk home and we talked about abnormal activities. We brain stormed and tried to assemble a midnight drift down the Mississippi with Cooks Champagne (3.46 a bottle). It was no luck so we gathered to eat French-fry po-boys and beignets. We sat for three hours talking about submarines and school districts when we were graced by a rambling astronomer on Decateur. I've never heard a more passionate claim that Christ didn't exist and that the whole religion was based on Signus, and the crosses found in the sky that act as a calendar.
I crossed into the 15th while playing badminton in my living room with Veronica. We set up a net and strung it across my bare space. That sounded so raunchy in retrospect. The closest I got to being sexy was attempting a trick-shot serve that involved rolling the shuttlecock down my back and smacking it from between my legs as it passed my ass. Impacting your genitals is always a novelty.
I am officially applied to graduate schools. I am so very, very, excited and nervous about the results (Mid March). However, my worst case scenario is that I stay here, stress-purchase a motorcycle to ride around Mississippi while slamming 5-Hour Energy dunked in Drank.
My worst thought of the week came when I was listening to a woman describe her vacation to India. I began to scheme.
The most delightful double feature I saw this week was Babies followed by Departures (It's a pretty hammy trailer). Babies has such a clear narrative arc and is beautifully shot. It's Planet Earth with humans. The Prytania theater (The Castro and Upstate Films have stiff competition) is playing this years Oscar nominated short films. And if only to sound pretentious, you should see the Crush. It's the worst shot, but the acting and script sets it apart from 'Abridged Hotel Rwanda' and 'Hey, I hope you had an awesome rooftop screening in Brooklyn of that film you made.' I'm being too harsh, they are fun as well, but Oscar? Well, Oscars don't really mean so much.
Jacques Cousteau is a fitting place to end with his statement that, "We are human beings. We have faith, and we have hope, and we can work."
After teaching I ran into a few co-workers on the walk home and we talked about abnormal activities. We brain stormed and tried to assemble a midnight drift down the Mississippi with Cooks Champagne (3.46 a bottle). It was no luck so we gathered to eat French-fry po-boys and beignets. We sat for three hours talking about submarines and school districts when we were graced by a rambling astronomer on Decateur. I've never heard a more passionate claim that Christ didn't exist and that the whole religion was based on Signus, and the crosses found in the sky that act as a calendar.
I crossed into the 15th while playing badminton in my living room with Veronica. We set up a net and strung it across my bare space. That sounded so raunchy in retrospect. The closest I got to being sexy was attempting a trick-shot serve that involved rolling the shuttlecock down my back and smacking it from between my legs as it passed my ass. Impacting your genitals is always a novelty.
I am officially applied to graduate schools. I am so very, very, excited and nervous about the results (Mid March). However, my worst case scenario is that I stay here, stress-purchase a motorcycle to ride around Mississippi while slamming 5-Hour Energy dunked in Drank.
My worst thought of the week came when I was listening to a woman describe her vacation to India. I began to scheme.
The most delightful double feature I saw this week was Babies followed by Departures (It's a pretty hammy trailer). Babies has such a clear narrative arc and is beautifully shot. It's Planet Earth with humans. The Prytania theater (The Castro and Upstate Films have stiff competition) is playing this years Oscar nominated short films. And if only to sound pretentious, you should see the Crush. It's the worst shot, but the acting and script sets it apart from 'Abridged Hotel Rwanda' and 'Hey, I hope you had an awesome rooftop screening in Brooklyn of that film you made.' I'm being too harsh, they are fun as well, but Oscar? Well, Oscars don't really mean so much.
Jacques Cousteau is a fitting place to end with his statement that, "We are human beings. We have faith, and we have hope, and we can work."
