Friday, April 30, 2010

Camp Town Ladies Sing This Song...



Doo-Dah! Doo-dah! The beautiful colts and fleet fillies of the world are on parade tomorrow for one of the year's toughest equestian competitions: The Kentucky Derby. True to form, I have little insight on the odds of the race (prettiest dapple or best name often gets my vote). But, in the words of the wise, "Ill bet on the one with the blaze, because you just don't see a blaze like that every day."


If you're near a television set, I encourage you to catch this race: the athleticism of the both the horses and jockeys is breathtaking as they gallop down the track. "Come one Dover, moving your bloomin' ass!"

Just consider this excerpt from Laura Hillenbrand's Seabiscuit: An American Legend,

"At the top of the stretch Special Agent faltered. Pollard pulled Seabiscuit's nose to the outside and slapped him on the rump. Seabiscuit pounced. Richards saw him got and gunned Rosemont through the hole after him, but Seabiscuit had stolen a three-length advantage. Speacial Agent gave way grudgingly along the inside as Indian Broom rallied up the outside, not quite quick enough to keep up... He was coming into the homestretch of the richest race in the world with a strong horse beneath him. Behind them were seventeen of the best horses in the nation. To the left and right, sixy thousand voices roard. Ahead was nothing but a long strip of red soil." (122)

I especially enjoy the contrast between the abrupt and action-packed play by plays occurring between a noisy and surrounding excitement ... and the distinct focalization on the "long strip of red soil"-- some peace and quietness that must have be some zen oasis for Jim Pollard, Seabiscuit's jockey. You can bet not much has changed in the seventy years between tomorrow's race, and the races of yester-years'.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Tyson Park Haiku Series

Ozone: three oxygyn
Atom warriors embrace--
Jealous lovers in air.

Freshwater water
Cress, pearls, green and wet, rush fast past
That three-headed frog.

A rusty route which
Leads to none but more
Sofas in the woods

Japanese beatle,
I found you in the earth, born
And raised, Tennessean.

Vested workers will
Plug holes with trees. Embankment,
Low risk of landslide.

Styrofoam cups dot
The hill, white dandelions
Find their home to please.

Dear Community,
Mobolize! We have a garden.
-The AmeriCorps

Last time we were here,
I saw someone from my class,
In my tennis shoes.

Tanks and trains, metal
And stain, a long procession.
The noise is nice.

Third Creek Trail, how I
Wish I saw a mermaid on
your cluttered banks.

Monday, April 26, 2010

A Cultural Read on the Representation of Elevators

I found this paper I did last semester. And since I rather like it, I am posting it here.

A Cultural Read on the Representation of Elevators

If we are to believe Youtube, the authorial social archive of film footage, then the representation of the elevator in media is that of a fascinating “hotspot” for the traveler avoiding the stairs. We can conduct a quick survey that deposits a long list of thumbnail clip options on the popular website’s search page; and, while the drama that unfolds in the small space of each elevator is seemingly varied, closer inspection yields indubitable universality in this structure.

For the elevator in film and television promises the allure of fear and fantasy, often within the same breath or within the span of a five-minute scene. One anime clip depicts two wide-eyed characters, trapped in an elevator by some scepter-wielding sorcerer. With another wave of his scepter, an incantation, and a shift in music, part of the elevator’s floor breaks away and the cartoon girl mysteriously floats towards the cavernous hole and falls down, down, down. The falling sequence repeats, the boy screams, but suddenly the girl comes floating back up sitting on a winged, glowing pink sphere. She is saved, and they embrace. The sorcerer restores the elevator and the colors resume from gothic grays to bright pastels as the doors slide open so the hero and heroine may exit.

This general form is mutated and carried out in Topgun, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Shallow Hal, and many other films. Fears and fantasies at every turn or rather, between every floor. For that is the quality of these elevator representations: time is short between floors and buttons; the allure of the affair, of the promotion, of the entrapment, has only minutes at best to manifest itself. The tension, or suspension, for these matters to arise mirrors even the mechanics of the vessel; it’s up and down limbo of transit echoing the rollercoaster expectations of the people within.

Another observation of elevator scenes: elevator etiquette. The sliding metal doors meet across to their frame, containing the traveler. There is never enough space, but the space there is well balanced-- that is, the space between each stander and waiter is kept perfectly equal. For example, one clip from Spiderman II, shows that small side step an original passenger makes to accommodate the new boarder, in this case Peter Parker. And there are more rules. Everyone knows them and the implications of breaching them. They concern the etiquettes of door holding, stifling one’s cough, and small talk when it is necessary.

Ultimately, this politeness in movies and television clips is a precaution taken in the name of elevator fears and elevator fantasies. Either one will be trapped in the elevator with strangers “using up all the oxygen” as one panicked character in a video states, or in open fire like The Departed or Star Wars Episode III, or one will be trapped in a romantic encounter, however bizarre (consider Jim Carrey’s character in the elevator in Liar, Liar who can not repress his comments on a woman’s large breasts). So in case of these circumstances, it is most advantageous to be on one’s best behavior!

It may be argued that elevators are not just hotspots, but places of diffusion as well. The “awkward moments” of elevator scenes are easily a familiar and identifiable quality of elevator clips. In television series Grey’s Anatomy, “Dr McDreamy” encounters an elevator ride with his ex-girlfriend and ex-wife. Needless to say, not a word is spoken in the course of the clip except for a co-worker mumbling in McDreamy’s ear, “I bet you wish you had taken the stairs right now.” However, whatever “awkward moment” that is captured in these elevator representations, besides used as a source of humor, is also used as an indicator of all the elevator fears and elevator fantasies that go unsaid (in other words, the fear of being cornered with these women, and the fantasy of their past affairs). These awkward elevator moments then only strengthen and support the notion of these fears and fantasies.

But before we think that we have reached any conclusions here by observing scenes of elevators, noting their linear movements as objects on the y-axis of the coordinate plane, and otherwise drawing all the limits around the elevator and performing to the elevator what the elevator does to us: box us in— let us last consider the Great Glass Elevator in Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

In this text, one may find an elevator that all at once escapes, defies, and reinforces the expectations of other representations of elevators. It zooms forwards, backwards, and sideways—it is the exception that proves the rule. In Chapter 28 of the children’s novel, Willy Wonka, Charlie, and his Grandpa Joe whiz toward the ceiling of the chocolate factory. In their platonic ascent, the glass elevator shatters though the ceiling and “rockets” into the sky, despite Grandpa’s Joe’s fears and misgivings. “The elevator has gone mad!” he cries at one point. Yet the elevator makes the cross over and the sunlight streams in through the transparent walls as the passengers admire the view from “a thousand feet up (145).”

What fuels this remarkable elevator but the same fears and fantasies that recycle through Youtube’s endless march of representations-- and the final wish that despite our fears, we may fly, no strings attached, on candy power.


Works Cited/Works Consulted

Barthes, Roland. Acts of Cultural Criticism. Ed. Frank Lentricchia and Andrew Dubois. Close Reading The Reader. Durham and London: Duke UP, 2003. 216-25. Print.

Michel, Foucault. "Of Other Spaces." 1967. MS. Berlin.

Roald., Dahl,. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. New York: Puffin, 2007. Print.

"YouTube - elevator scenes." YouTube - Broadcast Yourself. Web. 16 Dec. 2009. .

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Coyotes

I am house-sitting for one of my mom's friends this weekend. Its a nice gig because as I am here the low-maintenance dogs are quietly resting near me (one on the bed with other on his mat).

Actually the only non-peaceful one of the bunch is me. Mom mentioned coyotes in this neighborhood, she all but passed out when I told her Dooley was still out in the backyard past sunset. So now I am here in this bedroom dreaming of coyotes that prowl circles around the house-- waiting and spying. Coyotes are always no good characters, and probably with just reason. First of all, they're wiley. Which anyone will tell you, we all know that. Also, they DO make off with small animals that may possibly be someones pet. I've never personally seen this happen; but, I am assured that it does occur and not infrequently.

For these reasons I am wary of going out to my car for some backseat-stash pajamas. Not that I actually think that something could happen to me in the four feet between the front door and my parked car. But you never know. Coyotes can be a tough bunch, and I just don't want to mess with that. This house has quickly become an island fortress that sheds warm comfort against whiskers and snouts.

In other news, I read on a website that promotes publication of "censored" topics that the Somalian piracy issue is rather a local volunteer coast guard acting in absence of a formal government. They are aggressively acting out against foreign ships, partially for money ransoms and also because foreign governments are seizing Somalia's current political weakness as an opportunity to fish illegally and dump toxic waste off their coasts. Naturally Somalian citizens are frightened and livid now that they've discovered that they are being used and abused by the rest of the world. Look it up.

Monday, April 19, 2010

lets talk about this picture

Lets talk about this picture. I don't know this girl, but this is what I dislike:

You cannot see her hands.
Her feet are in pointy-toed heels.

These two details render this female helpless.

Her hands which are her physical access to tools, technology, aid, aggression, and defense... seemingly disappear into thin air. I would be interested to take a brief survey of ads that include a model's hands.

Her feet which could run or kick box... are instead fitted inside a high-heeled shoe. This not only limits her movement (as typical of any elevated foot-wear), but also disguises the original shape of her feet.

I see a vulnerable and grotesque body, backed against a wall. Her back and feet are arched suggestively, but her face is scared. The independence inherent in appendages has left her. Is their absence erotic?

Lastly, I am reminded of a Marge Piercy poem that we had to read in high school once. If you follow the link, please note the irony of the margin ads.


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Sunday, April 18, 2010

Lovers and Madmen

We saw the play.
They ran around,
and used the campus as their ground.
They led us round from scene to scene.
We followed growing whimsically
through the bush around the corner--
we spot her just as our loner.
And when they meet and share a kiss,
we huddle closer to dare not miss,
we zoom in-- a camera lense--
that fills with tears at Ignorance's sins.
Because, for sooth, at the end they died.
And my friend, sweet Stephanie, cried.
I made it back to the car in the cold
before remembering you,
you who knew the show
without ever learning the lines.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010



Sunday, April 11, 2010

internet writing advice

"It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book"

-- Freidrich Neitzsche, a star prototype for the economical blogger

Saturday, April 3, 2010

the crepe and jam morning poem

We made a sticky mess of pancakes fried deep in better butter- stuck with jams and creams. we ate on the floor.