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|Friday, November 21st, 2003|
|Wednesday, November 19th, 2003|
i'm gitchy with mr. ibook and no one's around... i got a job at the jewish temple! it's quite miniature, only 3-4 hours on friday night, preparing kosher food for the congregation that's a few blocks away on northside. 11.00/hour. mm, shabbat!
i love you adam ganes and i love jews in particular and in general.
and in the process of snagging another one. well, i need to find many many writing samples to send to other prospects. i spent a while updating my resume this morning. tweak tweak tweak.
i can't wait to go home next weekend.
i can't believe i'd previously been hoping for jobs at BORDERS INC and STARBUCKS INC. so this temple thing ISN'T A REAL JOB, but so what.
things i would like to do in the future-
* get a portion of my rent costs chopped off by becoming kitchen manager for our co-op house
* work at the UC's East Asian Library
* 'write' for the Daily Cal (cos it pays! much to my disbelief)
* tutor pre-K-12 students in math, physics, French, writing (maybe)
* wait/serve/make at an eatery
* translate writings into/out of Engrish
* exist at KALX
+perhaps finally attach myself to a (510) landline.
i can't think of anything else at the moment. i guess you can tell that i've barely dipped into my major, Integrative Biology... all this ambition being sprayed into different planes. nothing really substantive in the direction of a lifetime career or research interest. that'll come someday. neurobio and marine bio.
i'm on top of the world today though i need to stretch more. it's cold as hell here. i'll start wearing that scarf and knit hat. it's litz's burfday today. it's mine in less than a month.
i haven't talked to my parents in a while. i need to call my brother, still.
Current Music: morning at the breakfast table
ROBOTS INDEED! you've heard of Dr. Who, haven't you? An old British television series... I just watched some episodes tonight, and there was this huge, limp-wristed robot enemy! har har har! it was fant-awesome!
ah, homonculi make the world go round.
yes, Polish animation! kyrgystan fudge damn! it was so, awesome! A notable animator, Pyotr Dumala. with the crazy Polish characters in the Polish alphabet. There was a piece entitled 'Franz Kafka'. I wish you were there to see both installments (parts III & IV of the festival) on sat & sun. it was fantastical stuff. czech, eh?
yeah, my friend drove me crazy and left me puzzled (although I did have fun without her this weekend) but things will go on. but geez, she drove me crazy. well, yes, growing up and hard times for her... i'm not sure. i just wish she could be frank once in a lifetime. she's crazy-interested in french russian english and german languages, along with being somewhat feminist (whatever the hell that means). but goddawful, does she have to smack of those annoying french/russian prima donnas that we always see in the movies? but the radio station is streaming 1 after another johnny cash song, which is quite humbling. actually, she's pretty damn all-american white. hm, she's an anomaly.
hot damn! of course, Ethan! I will definitely command him (via the aquatic gods) to call you.. I've been meaning to raise my hand (heil!) and wave at him. I will definitely stop him in his tracks and slap him if I glimpse him in lecture tomorrow at 1 p.
Agh! can't wait to come home next weekend! Hikaru might visit his pals in Eugene (Eujeeeen! what a funny name!) Oregon or Seattle over next weekend. He might not, though. Well, I won't get my hopes too high lest they come crashing down like the sky on Chicken Little. But I'll show him your email about our documentary 'Hikaru in LA' so that he can laugh, too.
Also.. I'm searching searching for a job. Geez. No need for details. So I logged on the stupids CalJobs site to browse. There was a lady named Maggie Sontag looking for someone to food prep Fridays 6:30-9:30... for the Beth El Congregation. So I emailed her, and she replied that she's still lookin'. So this afternoon I was home and asked Adam if he knew Maggie Sontag.. T'of course he do! His is the Beth El Congregation! So... he said he'd give Maggie a call about 'the job'. and told me to tell her that we live together. Holy Geography! This would/will be a cool though mini-job. I love Jews! I can't wait to start! I can't wait to tell my dad! My family's going to get a kick out of this, a la Frank Sinatra.
|Tuesday, November 18th, 2003|
|Monday, November 17th, 2003|
|Sunday, November 16th, 2003|
to no one in particular, since i am bored and dazed with no one around.
- i would like many pairs of knee sox for my stubby sausage legs.
- te amo, polish animation. te amo, zbigniew.
- asian pride reaches 10-year high. room cleanliness reaches 15-year low.
- films comprising gay male sex scenes or gay male love make my dad uncomfortable. this is a fact. well, not like it makes him a freak. i'm not sure why i'm reminded of this for the 1000000th time. for example, the colombian 'our lady of the assassins' was such a good film that he stayed on the couch and watched its entirety with me for a 2nd time, although he said he would stay only during the beginning since 'it's a strong movie'.
- i also wish he would quit smoking behind our back. i can't believe he does this. mom probably knows. i mean, one day last weekend, he comes home, and REEKS of cigarette smoke. what, we have no nostrils? i can't believe this. i need to call her tomorrow (finally) and tell her, because because. for chrissakes, he's a health professional; shouldn't he know this? is it perhaps the undue stress i've caused him during the last year as his only daughter? i can't believe this. 2 worst smells in the world: 1 cigarette smoke (unfortunately, it's in excess in the bay area) 2 homelessness 3 stinky dogs. 4 bus exhaust. oh, that's 4.
- where in the world is samantha ('s mind and heart and consciousness and soul and maturity)?
|Thursday, November 13th, 2003|
btw, anticon is playing at slim's this saturday.
i attached the word file of a storyboard jake & i composed for a group project. maybe it'll be fun for you to read? i'm hopeful.
things to append in one form or other:
- a bukkake scene
- brains being interchangeable with chewing gum (obvious ressemblance)
- people bursting through walls (i.e. when the simpsons travel to japan and homer walks through rice paper walls. perhaps, a baby bursting through his mother's abdomen as if it were made of paper material, performing his own c-section).
-coin-change machines spitting out machine-saliva along with the coins. coughing, too.
yeah, some surrealist shit. i'm very very tired. you didn't answer my question about your november trip north, no matter how mad/sad you are.
First 4 panels: in a 2x2 grid, taking up the upper third of the page, all equal in size.
Norman is lying in bed, facing us, with the covers pulled up to under his chin. His hair is more disheveled than normal, replete with cow licks and downy fluff. The P.O.V. is from bed height, our line of site perpendicular with the bed at the head. We are fairly close to Norman - his head should take up about a 1/4-1/3 of the panel. His brow is calm and dry.
Same POV. Norman's eyes are opening, full of sleep, and he's blinking them, upset to be awoken. Sounds are coming from out of frame, from the same direction where an immensely bright light source is burning.
SND FX: Bitzzz Bitzzz Btz Btz
Same POV. Norman's eyes are fully open, and he looks further upset. A single teardrop-bead is born on his brow.
NORMAN: What're you doing?
Same POV. Norman is kind of sitting up now, and his eyes are squintily staring towards Peter, confused about something out of panel. A cold sweat is more apparent.
PETER: Just printing some study questions.
Panel 5 (about a third of the page vertically, and a third of the page horizontally)
Peter's back is turned to us, and he is hunched over his desk. The room is mostly dark except for the brightness from his desk lamp. We can see just a small sliver from this angle of his face. His dark hair is disshevelled as though from a combination of sweat, grease, and frustration. We can see that he has glasses, not too nerdy, though. His pants are notably wrinkly. Just below the back of his neck, on his back, an apple is kind of floating in midair (or so it seems). It is wiggling around, brushing against the collar of Peter’s shirt. A tinny, miniature-sized jackhammer SOUND is emitted from this area.
Panel 6 (same heigth as panel 5, 2/3 of the page horizontally)
Close-up of the apple, same angle of perspective. Just peeking over the top of the left side of the apple, we can see the top of the homonculus' head (forehead, brow, and eyes); liver spots are visible on its head between the irregularly sprouted bald spots; it is peering suspiciously right at the audience (Norman, in this case). The homonuculus looks upset. We can also see small feet dangling from beneath the apple (dangle-LINES drawn to show casual dangling motion).
Panel 7 (1/3 vertically, 1/2 horizontally)
Same POV. The homonculus has lowered the apple. And now is staring at us angrily, small eyes wide with homonculic fury. His entire body is covered in apple juice. He is naked and glistening, on the verge of dripping. A stale and bent cigarette is nestled out of his navel, occasionally crapping ashes. We can see that the apple has a huge chunk missing from what has been eaten; we can also remark on the small, detailed carving the homonculus’ jaw has worked. Last but not least, we notice that the homonculus has only one ear, which sprouts pale tufts of hair.
Panel 8 (same as panel 7)
Same POV. The homonculus' face is horribly contorted, as it throws the apple at Norman, aiming between Norman’s eyes.
HOMONCULUS: STOP STARING AT MEEE! (text and balloon are animated to indicate his tinny though raspy voice) (or not). (his mouth rains/spurts out a small amount of saliva and apple juice-drenched ashes as he exclaims this).
Panel 1 (3/5 vertically, 4/5 horizontally; situated in the upper left corner)
From just behind the right side of Norman’s head, looking at Peter’s back, with the homonculus, not very detailed (only catching some of Peter’s lamplight and making its form visible. Its form, or shadow, in this light, is thus quite grotesque, perhaps amorphous, or with extra fingers or toes or globules of flesh due to optical illusion). The apple is in the lower right hand corner of the panel, lying next to Norman’s pillow, and is squished, as if made of deflated latex or rubber; there is apple juice and a subtle smattering of tiny ashes all over the pillowcase, sheets. Norman’s face, neck, right arm, and t-shirt are damp. They glisten in the lamplight.
Panel 2 (2/5 vertically, 1/5 horizontally; in the the upper right corner)
Norman’s face, from the foot of the bed.
NORMAN: Wha- (split bubble) What the fuck is on your back? (text is animated to indicate abruptness of speech) (or not)
Panel 3 (1/5 vertically, 1/5 horizontally; just below 2)
The side of Peter’s face. He is silent for an instant.
Panel 4 (2/5 vertically, 1/3 horizontally; lower left corner)
Same view as in 3, only back more.
PETER: It’s just a homonculus, dude. My chem tutor thought it’d be best if I got it surgically installed in my torso to help me finish my lab reports on time.
Panel 5 (2/5 vertically, 1/3 horiz; to the right of 4)
Same view, Peter has turned on his swivel-chair towards Norman.
PETER: Look Norm, I’ve got a shitload more to knock out. Get some sleep - it’s just to help me focus. Sorry about the spew; I’ll help you clean up tomorrow after lab.
Panel 6 (1/5 vertically, 1/3 horiz.; to the right of 5, upper _ of remaining space)
Peter swivels back to focus on his desk. (indicated through sound fx) (or not)
Norman, laying his head down, eyes, open, intent and pensive expression.
Panel 7 ( 1/5 vertically, 1/3 horiz, below 6)
Norman, in the same position, eyes closed, asleep, breathing consistently.
Page 3 (NO LINES FOR PANELS!)
Panel 1 (1/3 vertically, full horiz)
Norman, from the bed’s side, his full body visible (but beneath the sheets). He is asleep and immersed in his blankets and sheets. The lamplight makes some odd shadows. The folds in his sheets become exaggerated.
Panel 2 (1/3 vertically, full horiz)
Norman’s bed is instantly gone; he is falling, and awake. He is still in his pajamas, limbs angularly flailing (though not frantically) suddenly with a backpack slung over the top of his left shoulder; the backpack’s weight pulls the left side of his body out of the plane of his right side. (His limbs flail half as if underwater; half as if connected at the joints to a marionette’s strings)
Panel 3 (1/3 vertically, full horiz)
Norman smacks and lands on a bench (wooden, English park-like). He is in street clothes; his blue-jeaned legs dangle over the bench. Bruises instantly form at the sites of severe impact.
----The remainder of the script is not subdivided by panel or by proportions, since Andrea wrote it (does not have visual capabilities), and not Jake.
A series of dream-like (of course), nearly non sequitur sequences follow, wherein Norman cracks open classroom doors and peeks at the progression of events inside. Essentially, he is an observer in a sea of zombies. Too-obvious film character comparison: Donnie Darko.
PART II: POST-AWAKENING
1* Setting: large lecture hall (e.g., 155 Dwinelle, Wheeler Aud, 1 Pimentel, or 1 LeConte) which is sickly-lit. Most likely a lower division class, with students packed against each other like 400 monkeys in a shoebox. Dispassionate eyes focused against the (bald, feeble, bespectacled) tiny professor, nervous, pinned against the chalkboard. While his tinny voice rambles and drifts, all 400 pairs of eyes emanate 400 pairs of laser beams from multiple angles. All laser beams eventually fuse into 1 focused ray that begins to burn a tiny hole in the professor’s shirt (say, near the waistband), slowly but surely this continues; Norman exits the hall before any commotion arises (apathetically).
2* Skull-cracking scene: Several students seated in rows, behind standard desks. Teacher pauses in front of each desk with a clipboard for evaluation purposes.
1st student- Boy, crisply and straightly dressed- clean-cut hair, pressed, plaid button-up shirt, collarless creased jacket. Silverware pieces laid in order on a napkin, on the desk. He picks up the steak knife, and makes a perfectly clean incision across his forehead ‡ around the back of his head. He lifts (at the line cut right above his eyebrows; dotted line optional) his skullcap and gives a teaspoon, handle first, to Teacher. Teacher takes the liberty of poking and prodding, stirring with said spoon into boy’s brains. Occasionally, he sips the soup and smiles, pleased.
* A subsequent panel is a back-up from the previous panel’s perspective. The reader can now see that rows of students already have previously-incised (correct wording?) foreheads, ready for Teacher.
3* Norman exits this classroom. He enters an identical classroom next door. This next class’ evaluations are already well in progress. Before shutting the door, Norman briefly remarks that this classroom’s students are more active. Each student’s skullcap is already removed; steam-lines emanate from their pink brains. Some are pulsating; some vibrate; some throb. Some are wizened; some are robust. Teacher 2 watches while one student’s brain ejects itself from his/her brainstem and performs acrobatics (or gymnastics). Door shut.
4* As Norman exits this building, he approaches a crosswalk from afar. The vehicle traffic flow is not too heavy; it is in balance with the flow of traffic across the crosswalk. Stop, pause, go; stop, pause go. As he actually nears the crosswalk, it is not students who cross the street as previously assumed, but little yellow fuzzy ducks with orange webbed feet (if color is used). They carry backpacks and wear Converses, perhaps.
5* Norman is noticeably perturbed, but keeps his Norman cool. He enters another campus building, of different architecture from the first (of more or less classical/classy/utilitarian design; your choice). The first door on his left as he enters, he opens a crack (a large crack). In this classroom (of arbitrary size), the class is nearing the end of the period. At first, the students are seated still, then, in an instant or after a few seconds (your choice), the instructor shuts his yap in conclusion. In a mad frenzy, all students descend on him/her; instantly they are all vultures whose large beaks peck away at the poor instructor. Alternatively, this scene could be a gang-bang on the instructor (your choice).
6* Norman shuts the door in a rush. He trots then jogs down the opposite end of the hall (whose doors have windows facing the setting sun in the west- not so dramatic, though); then he rushes up the flight of stairs, skipping steps. On the 2nd floor, the classroom doors appear to be more cramped against each other on both sides of the hall. Norman zooms past the first few doors, then comes to a halt. He turns the first door on his right.
7* A nondescript-looking teacher stands at the front of the classroom. Instantly, then, his head transforms. With the sound effect of VH1’s Pop-Up Video television program, the teacher’s head changes into a loudspeaker in the blink of an eye (*pop*). Next it pops into Adolf Hitler’s head; and so on.
8* Norman opens a whole slew of doors after shutting this one. He opens 3 in rapid succession. In each a teacher’s head pops into someone/something else. All doors shut.
9* Norman runs out of the building. This can be over the progress of several panels or few. He runs into another building and grabs the handle of the first male restroom he sees. He rushes into the first stall he sees bangs the stall door behind him, and grabs the toilet bowl with both hands. He rocks back and forth in front of it, breathing and sweating heavily. But then he moderately collects himself, gets back upright on his feet, and gets out of the stall. He takes a leak at one of the several urinals lining the tiled wall. One or two other guys are leaking also. There is nothing unusual about the wall of urinals, except that in between 2 of them there is a nondescript knobbed door. After he’s done, Norman zips up, and wipes his hands on his pants or actually rinses or washes them, whatever. He opens the knobbed door.
10* And is instantly swept into the end of a line. Apparently all are waiting to order coffee. Speech bubbles are issued above the heads in line, indicating orders, prices, queries. Norman’s hands are in his pockets, he’s looking out the café window on his right.
11* Now, the last panel: a shot of a galaxy whose arms are spiraling clockwise. A speech bubble issues from one arm; in the cashier’s voice: “What’s your poison?”
what, do you dislike ms. john soda? jake burned me a copy of their 'no p or d' and it reminded me when i saw it on pitchfork and mentioned it to you, and you got pissed cos it was too much a resemblance to pistole soda. i listened to the 1st few tracks and they're nice.
i conjecture that you are connected to me to kalx radio station to drew. unless they're actually 1 organism, drew & martin, that would be cute. i would like to say hi to them at the yerba buena next week. wish you could be here.
my friend samantha is staying in my room till sunday morning. this morning early i was glad to pick her up at the bart station, but now it's like, give me some space, woman! i've laughed really hard today, but it's still as if she's a 5'7" baby. paranoid, hyper-self-conscious. she hates men. she can't tolerate hanging out with my friends. she hasn't even met them. hyper-paranoid and suspicious and fearful. she's also the whitest person i'll ever get along with. i'm biting my lip but, i guess i 'asked for it' by agreeing to a 3 day visit. i'm driven mad. she's sleeping now, peaceful.
i know you're still much mad/sad at/because of me. those things don't just rub away by themselves. i'm not accustomed to the idea of you mad at me, but it's reality. i got into the shower this afternoon thinking about calling you. i wanted to be close to you just via those lil vent holes in the fone and see you and hug you close. but there was no time tonight. such misunderstanding shouldn't exist at all. i guess, 'previously', i was looking too much at all the chips on my shoulder that have no right to be flaunted in anyone's face. my misery balloon's been deflated by now. i suppose this was all made startlingly evident by observing samantha's behavior. i still have a chip on my shoulder by failing physics. i'm looking for a job; yesterday i submitted an application to starbuck's in downtown berkeley.
well, you may think me crazy for typing this, but i believe we'd get along as great friends if placed within 15 miles of each other for an extended amount of time.
i know you hate dogs (and they are grosser than cats) but today i saw 2 very sweet looking dogs. they both looked like they were wearing white socks, though of different breeds. very very sweet. i'm very very tired. oh jesus, i forgot to call my brother for the 2nd day in a row. please send me 'we bore' and 'don't touch my car'.
open letter #17
i forgot to mention-
sometimes berkeley makes me feel like a caged chicken (poule). but jesus, what's there to hate? and i'm getting a job. i say to myself. well, for someone who's never been even impregnated, i've felt lots of variations on post-partum.
i'm thankful to have my mom. so much comfort from the letter m. samantha arrives tomorrow early morning, and will be in throes till sunday. whatever throes means. i have a sneaky feeling about this weekend.
well, the m*s bundled in san francisco's mission district will have to be postponed a week- matmos installation at the yerba buena, finding a mexican blanket, macondo. um, a delicious thai restaurant according to jorge (mmm... structural concrete), and belly dancing every friday and saturday evenings by my belly dance instructor nanna candelaria. nanna, nice name.
|Tuesday, November 11th, 2003|
it was cool to hang out for those few hours this weekend; the chris cunningham dvd, too. my dad (and my mom!) asked me about how your job was doing.. so hopefully it is doing. this morning I drove to USC to meet my high school friend for a few minutes, but got lost along the way. I took the 118 to the 405 to supposedly the 10 West, but then got caught up in the matted ball of hairy freeways and connecting on-ramps and roads. blelgglelelglgah! I spent hours in transit, and my ass still feels like an unwanted bag of marshmallows on the bottom shelf at Safeway. so I drove up figueroa, meaning to check out the building where you work, at 3rd, but then got confused. I wish I could've taken a picture of these businessmen jaywalking near the shopping center (7th St.?). I ended up getting on the freeway at 3rd & Figueroa by accident, and then sticking to it, since I have no real business in downtown LA anyway. oh yes, I meant to take some pictures outside your work-building. on the northwest corner of 3rd & fig there's a large boulder in front of the building's sign.. it appeared to be steaming.
those black & white photos on the wall at your house are still in my head, especially the one with the elderly woman pushing a cart and the blurred elderly man next to her ('I'M FLYING THROUGH SPACE!!!'). I didn't know you'd taken those, or the one you gave me, of the sadder elderly man. your brother, he don't know what he talkin' about! those are fantastic fotos, and I follow your footsteps in awe. I have no idea how to develop fotos myself... I went to Staples afterward today and picked up a b & w disposable camera. later I'll watch john waters' 'pecker' again.
on monday morning my dad, brother & I caught the 'kill bill' matinee. yay! we were the only ones in the theater. have you heard of mystery science theater 3000? have you heard of dr. who??
the original plan was for my parents and brother to visit berkeley for thanksgiving, but my mom doesn't like to travel. she suggested (in the mother popcorn voice) for me to bring a friend down to LA that long weekend. I thought of hikaru.. well, what do you think? will you be in town that weekend? aghh!
I hope you were aware that I'd definitely have accompanied you, invited or not, to 'the last sephardic jew' were I not in so-cal. but then, perhaps you wouldn't have been smiled upon by that grandma lady. that's so cool!
'I am de vinner!'
no, it's not true, I don't hate berkeley at all, it's where people go to die and be born. I just miss home, and mother's cooking, and wide open spaces, and a familiar though constantly transforming environment. I do have a heart, believe it or not. I also like setting changes. we went to THE MALL on sunday, and purchased 4 sweaters for me in 2 hours. later that night and last night, we dug through closets and found other pieces to pack back to berkeley. last night I hung out with my friend.. she's not changed- hypochondriac. and true, LA is incredibly packed with cars and freeways. however, I visited my vietnamese friend NG (please do not ask why we are friends, if you remember her from the summer) at the starbuck's near the USC campus.. USC definitely has a higher proportion of.. good-looking people. though stupid! :p
ladino! we drive back to berkeley near 6:30, so I'll see jew tonight or tomorrow, when vampires die. I'm aware that you have a decal (?) tomorrow evening, but my decal is screening 'battle royale' from 5:30-7:30 at the goldman school of public policy. no matter if you arrive and depart early, it's a fantastic spectacle. let's formulate a plan for thursday evening in san francisco, please. I talked to my friend Samantha last night on the fone.. I am 500% positive I'm going to burn in hell for thursday through sunday as she stays over. here comes penance. ok, that's mean.
|Sunday, November 9th, 2003|
springtime for hitler, letter #16 bajillion and one
i forgot to confide these bits-
- on the ride i thought the following things: 1, to roll through life, a period of months, without a song in your head (therefore without a natural bio-rhythm for reference). 2, treating each day as a miniature life cycle. therefore dying at bedtime each day. 3, treating your own body as only a utile mechanism, using your limbs and senses and stomach muscles only for useful mechanical work, i.e. walking or gripping or LUNCH DISHES. :p 4, feeling like an absolutely alone point-dot in the swirling cloud-universe. yeah, that last one. without family, without birth origins, without past even more than without future. 5, seratonin & endorphins. christ, you have to see this movie, 'INNER SENSES'!
well, this doesn't count as insomnia, since i went to bed last night at 2 also. i also woke up at 2 p. this afternoon.
if you could do me a favor, my curiosity can't wait. it's holding its breath; it drank too much soda pop. could you ask hikaru what 'mako' means? i'll gladly be back on tuesday (evening).
pits of hell boredom, on friendsters.com
Okay, here's what you do. Copy this entirely,
and paste it into a new bulletin. Change all of
the answers so that they apply to you. The
theory is that you will learn a lot of little
facts about your friends. It is fun and easy.
1. WHAT IS YOUR Middle name?
lan. it means, orchid.
2. WHAT kind of PANTS ARE YOU WEARING
jeans, from the gap.
3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
bravo television promos. i'm sorry for myself.
4. WHAT ARE THE LAST 4 DIGITS OF YOUR
5. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE:
a crunchy piece of guava.
6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU
the red found on lil boys' faded pajamas. like, almost tinged orange/spaghetti-o/heather imbued.
7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? drippy, but calm.
8. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
9. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE
10. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS?
11. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?
uber-lazy. albeit using the word uber sans umlaut.
12. FAVORITE DRINK?
i'm not sure. i think midori, although alcohol content is... zero? all i want for christmas is a fake id. midori is sweetly sweetly sweet.
13. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK?
yeah, i don't know. i can, however, take hard liquor with class. just not too much. ok, i'm laughable.
14. FAVORITE SPORTS?
soccer. dance could be sport too.
15. HAIR COLOR?
darkish brown with lighter natural reddishish highlights from the right perspective. it's true.
16. EYE COLOR?
17. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
18. SIBLINGS AND THEIR AGES?
he will be 25 on the 12th.
19. FAVORITE MONTH?
december or august, can't decide.
20. FAVORITE FOOD?
seafood or fruits.
21. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
intently, 'inner senses', not 'the realm of senses'.
22. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
none, there are 365 or 366 of them!
23. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
24. DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
i don't know; they're not exactly contrary to each other. can't choose.
25. SUMMER OR WINTER?
can't choose, but prolly summer.
26. HUGS OR KISSES?
can't choose.. these last few are dumb questions. er.
28. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?
29. DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO WRITE BACK?
yes, and some do. the others unknowingly receive silent telepathic resentment, until i forget and start playing with legos. it's true.
30. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
i don't know, this is friendsters.
31. WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
again, friendsters. rhymes with hamsters.
32. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING?
imma start a book, i swear. i plan to start a book by albert glinsky tonight, i swear. in between bath and bed.
33. WHAT'S ON YOUR SCREEN SAVER?
34. FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
35. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT?
DROVE met parents collapsed into sleep for 12 hours.
36. FAVORITE SMELLS
clothes/blankets that smell familiar/like me or my mom, gasoline, coconut? dogs stank. things good enough to kiss. except for the gasoline.
37. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN
YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING?
wow, that was a dream. or wow, what day is it? or, why am i awake in the morning? usually nothing express-able in words.
letter #16 bajillion
ahh.. vanished from berkeley through tuesday. i hopes special dinner was extremely pleasant tonight.
just wanted to drop a few lines-
the craigslist-obtained ride was more than adequately pleasant! it was a recent berkeley architecture major named jasmine kuo with a dog in a red mini-cooper. we have the same cell fone! we didn't talk much, since she popped in several CDs which had 75% agreeable (to me) singable songs.. it was a strange familiarity i felt in the backseat, staring through the 2 sunroofs and out the window in the dark, thinking a lot and a lot. i felt more than psychosomatically healthier as we were 50ish miles from berkeley.
-thoughts- she played the beatles' 'mr. blue sky', bjork's 'cocoon', and others. a whole slew of cibo matto (i didn't remember what they sound like)(i must find their records now) and a fiona apple. you like tori amos... do you like/dislike fiona apple? do you like simon & garfunkel? (i watched 'the graduate' on television tonight almost twice) also, i watched with dad 'city of ghosts' (partially) which has lots of cambodian pop songs in the backround and a cambodian cover of a 1970s classic playing during the end-credits. next we watched 'inner senses'.. it's a hong kong production.. you MUST watch, i MUST find the dvd again in berkeley. 1, an attractive but deceased hong kong actor (suicide on 4/1/03!) who was homosexual 2, moderate asian horror 3, melodious lines of script 4, discussion of psychology/psychiatry, discussion of the human brain vs. the universe, discussion of memory repression/transformation & such.
-forgotten that you possess a record player & siouxsie records, among others. i should borrow some for studying purposes :p
-bringing back: tape player, small heating device, reading material, piano-playing material. so i don't forget.
-macondo, matmos & the mission this week! this week, have to!
an idea even popped into my head about a euclid end of semester party? huh? it's doable, and appropriate. quick, so i can still purchase cheap plane tix from southwest.com! or not... 4 wheels aren't so horrendous. i'm contemplating the possibility/feasibility of being elected for some & some manager thing next semester. i would like to be co-manager of kitchen with meredith for christmas this year. slap me and i will still say that. time for a stretch & a bath.
|Saturday, November 8th, 2003|
|Thursday, November 6th, 2003|
|Wednesday, November 5th, 2003|
|Saturday, November 1st, 2003|
you're contrite about being a jerk (un con) on the fone yesterday, but i'm as regretful of the infinite number of times i've said things to you that are indirect or as you like to put it 'circular'. half to 2/3 to 3/4 to 4/5 to 5/6 to (n-1)/n of the time, i doubt i even knew i was transmitting information to another human being with ears, i think i was rehearsing my voice on your recording device. just remember what i said on yr recording device late last night about playing 'reverse charades' & not being able to convey everything i want with mouth-words or type-words. i'm completely happy right now though i miss home lots. i feel like a cat darting from roof to roof to perch at night again. speaking of, i saw 2 black cats last night, walking. when i see you again, i'm going to give you a big hug.
your mom is beautiful, and i really mean to get in touch with her, especially about the theremin. i will.
how's (was) the chuck klosterman book? who is he?? aw, afro puffs.
i promise to find my graduate-of-the-catholic-university-washington dc-roommate and inquire about updating to OS 10.2.8 so i can see your mug staring at me on my ibook screen, thanks to the working of the world wide web.
you wrote a while ago about evacuating your house because of the arson. and the futility. what would be the first thing i'd save in a burning fire? (aw, yr mpc. aww.) if it could love back, i would hug it.) you made me truly flashback to instances of childhood when my mom still taught me life skills to my face. she taped a white piece of paper to the inside of our laundry room's door. in her handwriting was a whole load of important numbers, directions, i don't remember. maybe it was a list of items, too. she used to pull open her bedside dresser-drawer and point to me a pillowcase of important things- priceless jewelry (jew!).. other things, like savings, or official official documents. maybe there were like 5-10 and are 5-10 of these pillowcases around the house. it's a bad thing to forget, though i'm not there right now. well, i should find my own pillowcase and fill it, now. thank you pierre. this is 1 time i'm glad i have zero synthesizers in my room, cos there's no way i'd lug an mpc or such out the door. professor ibook is definitely up there on the list. my lil black book. well, half my life is portable, anyway. maybe more.
oh yeah- i'm tired of typing. but now's a time when i really miss your dad for a legit reason- i'm finally beginning to understand the meaning behind 'the society of the spectacle.' therefore, guy debord & situationism and all that shit. i'm going to pick up a book soon, i swear. if there was a band called guy debord & the situationists (shituationists), what would they sound like? or dress like? well.... i think to this band called the mushitcians. time to listen to omega cinco again, soon.
i love you like a fat kid loves cake,
|letter #14, hope i'm not doing smthng trribly wrng w/th accent marks. alsohopetheydisplay correctly
an email to the french-conversation instructor, and then some class journal entries. i stayed home from class on friday afternoon and wrote all 11 of them in perhaps a 3-hour binge. it shouldn't have taken that long, but then again i was kidding myself when i said "1:00 p. to 2:00 p., tops." i'm sure grammatical errors abound in the following:
Bonjour Mme Bruckel,
je suis désolée d'avoir été absente, mais je suis devenue un peu malade et je ne voulais pas risquer ma santé. J'ai tapé chaque entrée de mon journal afin que vous puissiez le lire sans perdre du temps. De plus, je vous donnerai mon blue-book en classe. J'attache un Microsoft-Word-file aussi si le texte apparaît obscur. Le vendredi prochain, j'ai l'intention de retourner à Los Angeles de nouveau pour célébrer les anniversaires de ma mère et mon frère; donc je serai absente le lundi 10/11. Comme je vais peut-être quitter Berkeley en auto, et comme ça fait 6-8 heures en auto, il se peut que je serai absente le 7/11 aussi, mais je ne suis pas encore sûre.
10/6 (* : quelques mots de vocabulaire)
*élire *télécharger *à boutir où?; où est-ce que ça va aboutir? *la propagande
Aujourd'hui en classe, on avait participé à une discussion de politique chez Californie. L'éléction de Schwarznegger est appelée par les journaux "une victoire du populisme". Elle révèle aussi l'équivalence entre une économie faible et une guillotine qui a ménacé Davis. On peut être fier d'être californien, puisque la Californie est l'origine de beaucoup des inventions et des innovations, le référendum y compris, même si tout le monde entier rit et même si c'est seulement une circonscription électorale des jeunes hommes de race blanche de la vallée centrale qui a élu Schwarzie.
*éléver *un téléviseur
Sujet de débat (vient du texte, chapitre 12): "Est la télé une drogue?" Quelque chose de drôle que Chris a dit: "Mais... la télé... est le futur!" A mon avis, la télé est à la fois un monstre vivant et un compagnon mort. Quelques personnes ont la tendance à manger un repas devant la télé, par exemple. Des autres aime les images et les phrases et les slogans qui coulent, qui sautent, qui volent devant leurs yeux et derrière l'écran. Peu après, l'écran froid devient l'écran chaud. Moi, j'admire la télé comme réussite de technologie humaine. Mais elle devient moins utile quand un spectateur la traite comme mode de récréation, et même moins utile comme compagnon.
Aujourd'hui Lisa présentait un exposé très intéressant des opinions francophones sur un forum-internet de http://www.lemonde.fr.
Ça donne une très bonne vue de la circulation d'information sur le réseau et des opinion des étrangers, tous les deux. On discutait aussi le rôle des journaux aux Etats-Unis, le rôle important qu'ils jouent dans le procès du référendum. Quelqu'un a mentionné que quelques clients de Los Angeles Times avaient renoncé leurs abonnements après la publication d'un article controversé du harcèlement sexuel pratiqué par l'acteur Schwarznegger. On lit ces opinions afain d'échapper le marais politique de la Californie en particulier et de tous les Etats-Unis.
*Algériades.com * le métrage *un scénario
On commence à voir un film très célèbre réalisé par Gillo Pontecorvo, "La Bataille d'Algers". Le récit écrit par Saadi Yacef est le fond pour le scénario, et Ennio Morricone était compositeur pour la musique entourant l'oeuvre. L'histoire du film coule entre les années 1954 et 1962, et le film lui-même était produit 1967, peu après la fin de la guerre. La première scène commence avec la figure triste du petit soldat arabe, Omar. Plus tard, le spectateur rencontre un personnage très important, Ali-la-Pointe.
Aujourd'hui, mercredi, on regarde les scènes qui continuent les batailles. Gillo Pontecorvo (ou n'importe qui qui a dirigé la cinématographie) a inclu des images très puissants: il y avait le spectacle de la figure d'un petit garçcon algérien, derrière le fil de fer barbelé; peu après il y avait le spectacle des hommes arabes attaqués par des chiens de la police française. N'importe quand la caméra se fixe sur un citoyen algérien, il se passe un moment plein de drama. Plus tard dans le film, on voit et on écoute des bébés crier comme crient les chats.
Aujourd'hui Steve avait dirigé une discution sur le colonialisme français en Afrique. Moi, je ne sais pas beaucoup qui concerne "la conquête" du continent africain, mais tout le monde sait que le colonialisme qui s'est passé en Afrique était fort profond, soit par les Français, soit par les Belges, soit par les Anglais, soit par les Néerlandais. En tout cas, les colons ont colonisé ces pays africains pour que leur orgueil soit satisfait. On parlait du cas unique de l'Algérie, où les émeutes par les indigènes sont devenue violentes. On parlait aussi du lien étrange entre le colon (La France) et sa colonie, l'Algérie.
*le métrage- tous ce que la pellicule enregistre *vaincre *trahir *la trahison *un traître *souffrir *la patrie *une cache *la verre *le vers * le ver
Sujet de discussion: est-ce que le film de Pontecorvo a déroulé avec un parti pris? Une deuxième question à considérer: pourquoi le film était-il montré aux employés du Pentagon le 25 août? On a discuté aussi les scènes favorites du film. Celle de Allison se passe quand la caméra trouve Ali-la-Pointe aux plafonds des édifices. La mienne se passe pendant que trois femmes algériennes placent chacun trois bombes à trois endroits populaires. Je me souviens des paroles du prisonnier Ben M'Hidi. Lorsque un journaliste lui a demandé de défendre son FLN contre l'accusation de la lacheté, il a répondu que l'utilisation des avions pour planter des bombes est plutôt une manifestation de la lacheté. C'était une question de la différence entre la guerre établie et la guerre par les guerillas. En tout cas, j'imagine que les Français et les musulmans partagent une révérence pour la femme. Pour toutes les deux civilisations, la femme est symbolique de la patrie.
Aujourd'hui, on répondait aux questions concernant les thèmes du film de Pontecorvo. Personne ne semblait ravie de parler de la musique de Morricone, même si on remarquait les tambours qui soulignaient le drame, de temps en temps. Quelquefois, des sons et des bruits ajouteraient à la semblance à une métafiction. On avait conclu la discussion du film avec des comments sur les divers points de vues de l'histoire. On avait commencé la discussion de la musique avec une chanson de Renaud, "Manhattan-Kaboul".
Mon propre exposé sur Serge Gainsbourg. On a écouté deux chanson- "Requiem pour un con" et "Je t'aime...moi non plus". On n'a pas eu assez de temps pour discuter la signifiance de la vulgarité dans l'art. Pourtant, moi, je suis un peu désolée de ne pas avoir prédit l'effet de jouer la deuxième chanson dans une salle de classe. D'un autre côté, je ne crois pas que la chanson était trop problématique.
Je n'ai pas été présente en class ce jour-ci, mais j'avais préparé quelques mots en avance. Vendredi précédent, Kiran a eu l'idée d'apporter chacun leurs propres chansons favorites (ses chanteuses francophones préférées, Les Nubians). Peut-être qu'un jour reste à la fin du semestre pour une telle fête.
Qu'est-ce qu'on pense de la "rectitude politique" du discours? En français, comme en anglais, il est favorable de substituer des expressions équivalentes pour des "mots-tabou". Autrement, la substitution est toute ridicule.
"Est-ce que le français est en danger de mort?" A mon avis, c'est trop difficile à répondre. La mort d'une langue en entière dure pour longtemps, pendant plusieurs époques. Donc, cette question me semble un peu déraisonnable. On avait parlé de la puissance des économies du monde, et donc, la puissance de la langue chinoise. La grandeur de la population chinoise est déjà puissante, et la diaspora de la civilisation chinoise n'est pas limitée seulement aux autres pays de l'Asie, mais elle comprend le monde entier. Selon Philip, le français lui-même n'est pas ouvert à décrire les divers avancements technologiques, même si l'on le reconnaˆt comme "la langue officielle et internationale". Des autres langues à considérer: l'anglais et l'espagnol.