The only impulse Allen cops to is the one to work, maniacally, as if to stave off death. “It’s a way of coping with the world. You know, in the same way that somebody copes with it by being a stamp collector or a sports addict or a titan of industry or an alcoholic or something. My way of coping with the horrors of existence is to put my nose to the grindstone and work and not look up.”
- Woody Allen, in an interview about “Vicky Christina Barcelona”
—
RIP Isaac Hayes
I still don’t have the technical expertise to even be expressive on the cello. It’s such a crazy feeling. I don’t know whether this wanting so badly to express has ever butted heads with the absence of a mechanical ability to do so.
It’s like wanting to carve something with only a blunt knife on hand.
I guess this metaphor has its fingers deep in all the other imaginable aspects of my life, too.
cool
</introspection>
excerpt from e-mail/postcard to a friend:
I feel better now that it has been a week since the accident. I finally got to tell my dad about it at lunch today. Now I just need to send in some paperwork. You’re right; I felt terrible when it happened, but everybody has been reassuring me in the same way that you have.
I haven’t yet had the chance to tell you about the good things that have transpired.
It has been a great summer. Not completely over yet, but coming to a close.
Last week was the end of the first term of school (this week is the beginning of the second term.). I had been feeling shaking about how well I was doing. But our review sessions and tests told me I kick ass. I’ve made at least one buddy in my class. My self-confidence is a lot stronger.
Here is an article about training people to empathize with the difficulties brought on by aging:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/us/03aging.html
You will most likely be across the state line before we talk again - but hopefully I’ll reach you sometime soon! Have a good week, too.
I read things like this and remember the people I’d like to forget:
sf tunnel - photo by chris a.
God, in the form of a horrible 5-year-old child, took a slingshot and made chaos of my emotions earlier this week.
But let’s look at some highlights:
1. I received my city paycheck today to find that a 4% increase had been applied to my hourly rate.
- Have been loving that job and the kids who are my summer students.
2. Met a guy who works in audio post at WB today and found him to be totally awesome.
- Also got a peek at some sound stages and wandered around the lot on the way back to my car.
3. Got a phone call from a long-lost Victor J. on Monday.
4. Found that our attic-porn lounge is 75% complete.
5. Cast a new light on the people who matter in my life.
p.s. check out the photos of one Chris Alexander, a friend; his photo of Chicago at night has been dugg 2140 times at last count.
A few months ago, Steve Jobs was in my dream. He was some sort of family friend, and my mom and I were passengers in this massive, bloated, blindingly white-colored SUV he was driving at breakneck speed, around the inner ring of a closed-circuit racetrack. He was kind of rude - was probably shouting obscenities and driving like an asshole.
Also, he was wearing his black turtleneck. But I probably didn’t need to tell you that.
Sitting on the living room couch with 2.25 beers in my gut, with my new best friends, the cassette tapes I bought from Amoeba on Sunday. Heaps of leftovers and feelings of goodwill comprised some of the residue of the wake of Saturday’s party. Those are already kind of fading - thanks to a heavy workweek. But we still have several bottles of beer.
I don’t love tape because of masturbatory nostalgia. But if listening to something on tape just makes you feel good, then there’s something special about that something.
I just finished putting together a list of twenty audio post studios that interest me (a homework assignment due at my first advising appointment today). It lists contact info, web addresses, and notable achievements, projects, and clients. It satisfied one aspect of my OCD.
<plug>Google docs = w00t</plug>
My eyes burned off my sockets some time ago. Time to pick them up, put them back, and finish my mega-bowl of oatmeal. And get back to work.
