Is magnificent.

Ever seen The Wicker Man?  If not, I recommend you go and watch it as soon as is immediately possible. 

 That’s a shot of Christopher Lee as Lord Summerisle, a delightful character from the movie. Oh, very delightful.

 According to Mr. Lee, this is the best movie of which he’s ever been a part. Enough said.

I cannot wait for this:

http://uk.reuters.com/article/entertainmentNews/idUKN0124949720071001

Jean-Luc Picard takes on Macbeth.

Quick Post:
I am in Texas.  I happen to love Texas — it is home to family, fair weather, and open roads.  I just want to roll down the window of that minivan and pretend to be Dennis Hopper, freedom blowin’ through my hair.  Seriously, though, the MidWest is an underappreciated phenomenon of this country.  At least, that is, in the perspective of this New Yorker, who can’t wrap her head around the phrase “open space.”

The Midwest reminds me of the phrase “The Heartland” and that reminds me of politics — common catchphrase, especially for John Edwards methinks. Heartland this, heartland that — the heart of the heartland.  Anyway, things are not so bully for him, placing third in the NH primaries and what have you.  Hilary seems to have edged out in front of Obama — I wonder if this will have any reprucussions for the remainder of the race.  I mean, of COURSE it will in terms of speculation and pundit quarrels, but I mean in terms of how Democrats view her “electability” — whatever that means.   I really do think, though, that people in certain regions and demographics vote certain ways  and the media can’t nudge those stats.  And, since I have no idea what the dispositions of said demographics and regions are: Que sera sera.   I’m not a political scientist, so they (the political scientists) can disagree with my far too simple sentiments and muck it out if they’d like.  Which they of course not only like, but LOVE.

Okay, off to the school to have lunch with the little ones. Menu on Wednesday? Baked fish! Mmm.

The holiday season has been a filling feast of equal parts spirits, snow, and sleep so far.  I suppose I’ve left much of what’s happened to memory; I can’t quite recount the past two weeks in detail because I simply let it slip too far away.  So, last night seems like a good place to start and end.

I went down to the city last night to hang out with Wil, Chris, Brian, Scott, and Chris’ friend Paul.  We went to Silk Road, and enjoyed a bountiful repast of noodles and things schezuan style.  Then Chris and Paul went their separate way, and the remainder of our party retired to the Dead Poet (great bar, 82nd and Amesterdam) to debate quotes attributed to Hemingway and bash around glasses of Smithwicks for which the establishment is nice enough not to make you pay. 

Then Brian left us: Wil, Scott and I made our way down to Mike and Steve’s awesome apartment, where we hung out with and caught up with those two plus Brie and others.   Delightful company and generous drinks were plentiful.

 Unfortuantely, boxed wine and Smithwicks don’t make an excellent chemical match, so my stomach told me to go home early.

 Wil and I celebrated New Years in Grand Central, slumped up against a stairwell, totally exhausted and waiting for a late train.  There was something spooky but nice about it.  Grand Central, that is.  It was like a private party… stray people tramping around who had defected from the Times Square Scene.  A few partiers at the restaurants that sit above the stairs, with horns and cocktails. Crowds of conductors, who had a rare hour or so break, congregated by the tracks joking and laughing and slapping each other on the back, dispensing  hearty wishes for the brand new year. 

I love people watching.

Happy new year! Cheers

Alright, the Bailey’s backfired.  I felt like I had acid in my stomach all morning — sour milk and lemons. Bad choice. Curdlish churnings.

On that note, I’m feeling markedly better since I’ve been listening to the Chieftains Christmas ablum — The Bells of Dublin. It’s my favoritest Christmas music ever.

 And, my favoritest song on the album:

St. Stephen’s Day Murders

(Paddy Moloney/Elvis Costello)

I knew of two sisters whose name it was Christmas,
And one was named Dawn of course, the other one was named Eve.
I wonder if they grew up hating the season,
The good will that lasts til the Feast of St. Stephen

For that is the time to eat, drink, and be merry,
Til the beer is all spilled and the whiskey has flowed.
And the whole family tree you neglected to bury,
Are feeding their faces until they explode.

Chorus:

There’ll be laughter and tears over Tia Marias,
Mixed up with that drink made from girders.
’Cause it’s all we’ve got left as they draw their last breath,
Ah, it’s nice for the kids, as you finally get rid of them,
In the St Stephen’s Day Murders.

Uncle is garglin’ a heart-breaking air,
While the babe in his arms pulls out all that remains of his hair.
And we’re not drunk enough yet to dare criticize,
The great big kipper tie he’s about to baptize.

With his gin-flavoured whiskers and kisses of sherry,
His best Chrimbo shirt slung out over the shop.
While the lights from the Christmas tree blow up the telly,
His face closes in like an old cold pork chop.

Alternate Chorus:

And the carcass of the beast left over from the feast,
May still be found haunting the kitchen.
And there’s life in it yet, we may live to regret,
When the ones that we poisoned stop twitchin’.

Regular Chorus Repeat

SO GOOD.

 Working on my feminist unit.  It’s pretty fun.  I wish I could teach it to someone other than a theoretical audience.

It’s 7:30 AM.  I just put a shot of Bailey’s in my coffee. I deserve it!

Only two projects and a reflection left. Almost. There. Christmas!

And she returns.

Sorry, kids, it has been a while.  I’ve been swamped with work and a nervous wreck over certain parties involving intense planning and proper amounts of peppermint schnapps.

So, a few notes, shall we?

The Stanley Fish lecture the other week was fantastic.  That man is a machine.  It’s nearly impossible to gun him down, you just cannot blow holes in his arguments.  The content of the lecture focused on Fish’s call for a re-academization of, well, academia.  He claims it’s all become far too political — in terms of professor agendas and school slants and the like.  Education, in Fish’s ideal, functions as a facilitator of constant academic dialougue and discussion.  In short, an educator should present evidence rather than verdict. It should never deliver conclusive views on any issue: social, religious, political, theoretical etc.  And, you know, I mostly agreed with the Fish.  I’m not sure how I couldn’t, though. He’s a very provocative and convincing speaker. I admire that.

Many attendees, however, were severely pissed by his remarks. The TC community is still burbling about the whole affair.  Some charge him as socially irresponsible and cruel. They say that the classroom should certainly be a place in which students are socially liberated and mobilized. Fish, I imagine, would counter that drawing that  line between academic and social discussion is a kind act.  It prevents the sort of social upheaval in the classroom that Fish wages is counterproductive to a balanced presentation of objective fact.  And, again, I can’t quite argue. I want to buy his book when it comes out. This is it. 

Also, here’s his latest blog entry, for kicks. Some fun thoughts there.

I should dig out my quotes.  There were a few gems… especially one wicked snap at hippies, I think. I’m too lazy to root out my notebook at the moment, though.

What else, what else, what else.  I am happy to note that it SNOWED a whole lot this past week or so. I wish I had pictures, but I don’t.  I love the snow, though.  It looked wonderful and clean and Christmasy.  I wish more would come.  A White Christmas would be superb, indeed.

Speaking of Chirstmas, here’s a visual from that aformentioned peppermint schnapps associated party:

It’s a beer tree! (It looked better with the lights off, in the dark) The party was wonderful thanks to great guests, food, and drink. I can’t wait for the Vernal Equinox, now THAT’LL be a party.

Further Christmas Spirit was evidenced by Wil and Edwin and I as we attended a Tuba Christmas at Rockefeller Center on Sunday. A picture of that:

You can’t see them all, but that’s hundreds of tubas, folks.  Hundreds. I can’t explain to you how odd the sound is… imagine the bassiest tone ever, multiply that by hundreds of tubas, and add the acoustics of a skating rink into the mix.  Lots of vibration. Oddly, though, the sound is faded, almost ethereal.  I think the sound is soaked up rather easily by surfaces, because it is so slow. So, the amount of concrete and such surrounding the tubas created this eerie damper/sustain effect. Really neat.  Especially when “O Come O Come Emmanuel” is playing — my favorite Christmas song.

Let’s see… as far as reading is concerned I am now working on:

American Gods, Children of Hurin, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

The Gaiman kick continues, and Alan Moore gets his first shot.

I MUST pick up Hitchhiker series again when I get home.  I also must pick up Pride and Predjudice. As well as The Kite Runner, especially now that I have A Thousand Splendid Suns under my belt. I’m afraid I’ll be disappointed, though.  I loved A Thousand Splended Suns mainly for the education, not the writing. I don’t know if The Kite Runner will have that same content appeal.  Oh, and Persepolis was pretty good. I should get the sequel.

Oh! I just finished Brief Lives in the Sandman series and it was so great! I want to read it again, when I have time.  But, properly.  Meaning, I’d like to start the whole damn series over again! But, I’d have to finish it first, wouldn’t I? Sigh. I have to borrow the rest from Wil.

Alright, enough blogging for now, though I definitely have more to say. At least Brian should be content, now.

Also, I cannot wait for the semester to be done with.  Almost there!

Also, props for Teachers College: two of my friends seem decidedly into you.

Also, I guess I should write more later. Like, about my Christmas shopping experience. And how awesome Zabar’s smells. Same goes for the new Jacques Torres shop. Mmm. Cheese and chocolate!

Today I read up on Nancy Astor.  Interesting.

 I am currently obsessed with Sam Adam’s Winter Lager.  So, I’m spending some time wandering around the Sam Adam’s Website.  It’s been very courteous to me, spending much time answering my sundry questions about beer and even telling me how to enjoy my beer! Delightful.

http://www.samueladams.com/world_of_beer.aspx

I drank far too much coffee this morning; I wonder if this is what speed feels like.   I’d hope it’s easier on the stomach, however, this is awful.

I’d really like to make a gingerbread house this year. I wish I could find a good how-to.  Last time my technique failed pretty miserably.  Thanks alot, Betty Crocker.  No harm done, though.  I did consult an outdated version of your book. Sorry.

My Dad just yells from the living room…

“Eh, Eh, Hey Rosanne! You seen this BAYWOLF came out? You know this movie?  

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, yeah! You mean, BEOWULF? Yeah. I saw it.”

“Oh, really? How was it?”

“Good!”

“Oh, good. Your professor in on it?”

 ”Nah. He saw it though.”

“Oh, good.”

I love it.  Also, Neil Gaiman was correct — as stated in Smoke and Mirrors, people certainly do mishear Beowulf for the… BAYWOLF? (Caps vital in this case to mimic my father’s extremely loud voice and boisterous German accent)

I’ve heard alot of Beowulf talk these days.  Between usual reference, the movie, and Wil’s thesis, Beowulf is a fond conversation topic.  Maybe not so fond for Wil.  I think he’s about to poke his eyes out. 

Not so much proof of the paranormal, but interesting pagan (or just boredom) bits:

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/worldnews.html?in_article_id=495538&in_page_id=1811

I’d wish the former isn’t a fake.  But according to some qualified guy quoted on wikipedia, “pissing” on the metal and then burying it in the ground a few days produces the same effects.  Might be just for fun.

The second is just admirable, in a way.