Mixed Media I

When the cable goes out,
Monday morning gets interesting.
My residents tell me right away.
It's the lightning.
The road crew was digging.
I broke their television
and now they have to miss
The Young and the Restless,
The Price is Right,
or their background noise.
Walter, though, he knows what a powerless TV means:
"The mirror is broken,"
he tells me. And sure enough,
we can't see our reflection in the static.

this time with feeling

This past week I decided to try reading The Road and A Million Little Pieces, two books that didn't hook me the first time I started reading them. Things ended well for The Road, but A Million Little Pieces remained a flop for me.

Cormac McCarthy's description of an apocalyptic land is sparse and I tended to wrap myself in blankets while reading, it can get that chilling. I think I would have appreciated the book even more if I had children of my own, as I found it hard to relate to some aspects of the father-son relationship, but I did find narrative themes to cling to like the memory/reality/imagination trifecta.

Unfortunately, James Frey failed twice to entertain/amuse/inform with his true or false story of his six weeks in rehab. I tried to set aside all the controversial baggage the story has and just read it for what it is and I wanted Frey/the narrator to have some redeeming qualities, but I just found him self-absorbed and obnoxious. Maybe it's just me?

Good Day Sunshine

Day Two on the job, my first working the early shift on Cummings and Diedrich Hall. Usually I take care of Anderson Hall and the odd jobs that go with it, but this summer I'll be all over the place--A-Hall, C-Hall, D-Hall--I might as well rent out a room down there.

Early shift does mean that I'm done by 1:30, giving me plenty of time to catch some sunshine. It was so hot in the dining room today, I suggested we all put on our bikinis and lay outside. The ladies at the table where I was refilling coffee agreed.

52 Days of Summer

I tried connecting to the wi-fi in my house today, but the only available network was the security-enabled Sovereign network. A sign from God?

Anywho, here’s a poem for Day 1 of Summer (and Day 1 on the temporary full-time job at the retirement center):

Extra-Terrestrial

They’re going
to say we’re crazy, Lillian says between breaths.
She stands at her open window.
Her air-conditioner turns on; her oxygen tank hisses and rattles.
What? I ask.
The little green men.
Who? I ask.
She turns and smiles.
When they come down from above,
They’re going to tell us
we’re crazy.

Books of June

Geek Love - Katherine Dunn

Wow. A marathon of a book, but worth it. Half of the English major in me wanted to write a paper on it while the other half was eternally grateful I didn't have to write a paper on it. And after taking a film class, I also thought a film adaptation of this book would be interesting. It would certainly have to be colorful, but also dark. The "shady carnival" theme has been done before, though not quite like this.

 
Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul - John and Stasi Eldridge

This book took me only four days to read, and while it gets cheesy in some parts, there is certainly no harm in reading it--it's always nice to be reaffirmed. A lot of my friends have read it, so it's been on my list for awhile, but I think the timing was just right for me to hear this book's message this summer. 

Eat, Pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert

Yes, I've already read this book. I'm in the process of skimming over it again in an effort to remember the state of my life before I studied abroad (I read this book about a week before I applied to study abroad in Italy...it was one of the biggest factors in my decision.), to see just how much I've changed since then, and to reminisce about my favorite places in Rome and Naples, visited by both myself and Gilbert. I also wanted to get one last read in before Julia Roberts replaces my internal visual of Elizabeth Gilbert's journey in the film version coming out this summer.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames - David Sedaris

This man can literally do no wrong. And when I say "literally," I mean "literaturely," which isn't really a word. The thing is, this guy's funny and I could spend the rest of the afternoon trying to come up with a savvy metaphor to describe just how funny, but that would be a waste of the sun I'm hoping to soak up in a few minutes as I continue reading on my deck.

Skyscraper rises in Eternal City

The one thing Rome doesn't have (yet): a skyscraper. Here is the proposed plan for Torre Eurosky:

Horror Story Opening or the True Events of Wednesday Night?

There are exactly eleven cars in the grocery store's parking lot. It's only 9:30, but even the usually lively apartment complex across the street looks dead and sickly under the circa 1970s street lights. Bailey and I get out of the car, still singing Sheryl Crow, and walk into the fluorescent brightness of the store.

We only need a few things, just the last ingredients for the fettuccine Alfredo we want to make the next day, but we were crawling under our skin to get out of the house--even just to drive up to Abbotsford, which is just about as exciting as Colby on any given day.

The two cashiers on duty nod hello as we walk in and go back to whatever it is they were doing: cleaning the glass over the bar code scanner (again), refacing the candy and magazines next to the register. Bailey and I head for the back of the store, the dairy section. The country songs our parents grew up with crackle over the loudspeakers. "Mothers, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys..."

A small girl stands next to the yogurt in the refrigerated shelves and stares up at us as her mother drifts towards the frozen pizzas, leaning on their empty shopping cart and shuffling along in flip flops from last summer. I get the chills, but I'm not sure if they're from the selection of cold cuts and cheese in the refrigerated section around me or the girl's vacant gaze.

Bailey grabs a wedge of Parmesan cheese, the only one in the entire cheese section spanning nearly the entire back wall of the store. This is more of a yellow cheese kind of place.

"Do we need anything else?" she asks.

"I don't think so. We only have ten dollars, so."

We take the chip aisle to the front of the store, passing a middle-aged man debating between Fritos and Cheetos. His cart already holds a 24-pack and a can of Easy Cheese. He turns to watch us as we walk past. We smile hello and keep walking as he puts both bags of chips in his cart.

In the checkout line the cashier asks if we've found everything okay. His skin is a weathered tan and his blond hair stays curly with the help of hair gel. We pay and decline a bag, turning to go back out to the car.

"Have a good day tomorrow, girls," the cashier says to our backs.

"Thanks, you too," we reply.

"I mean...ladies."

The automatic doors slide open and we hesitate for a moment, wondering if we should laugh. Instead we keep walking out to the nearly empty parking lot.

mantra

Transient

Music, pet fish Jack,

food up front, mattress in back;

I go where I go.

This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.

Do you have an open evening? You should probably read The Bridges of Madison County. If you can, read it on a porch somewhere with some sweet tea or lemonade (or an Arnold Palmer). Honestly, it won't take long to read--I finished it last night after checking it out from the library at about six.


The author, Robert James Waller, is also a photographer and musician (He seems to have a lot in common with Robert Kincaid. Imagine that, an author who writes an autobiographical character into his work.), and he released a jazz album, The Ballads of Madison County, to go along with the book.

Two years later, Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep played the parts of Robert Kincaid and Francesca Johnson in the movie version, which I also recommend for a humid summer evening.

Bonus Fun Fact: John Wayne is from Madison County.

Everyone's looking 'round, thinking I'm going crazy

I was going to post a sick picture of my double needle holes from donating blood for Ruby Tuesday, but I'll spare you that image. If you see me in person in the next week, though, I'm probably going to show you the bruise starting to blossom on the inside of my left arm.

No joke, this song was on the radio as Peggy from the Blood Center wiggled the needle around in my arm this afternoon.

I've been long, a long way from here.

Even though my house is five blocks away from the tracks, the train whistle echoes in my room. There's not a lot between here and there to block the sound; even the low rumbling of the train travels across town to vibrate my window screen.

I love home, so why do I just want to crawl out of my window and run to catch that train? I shocked Grandpa the other night by saying I'd go back to Rome in a heartbeat. I'd be a damn fool to not want to go back, even after listing all the good potential this summer holds. [Why do I feel the need to add a disclaimer here? (I don't hate America.) Why can't I just say America annoys me sometimes, I'd rather live in a different country for a little while, and leave it at that?]

Maybe because my friends are all traveling to exotic places right now. Literally, right now. I'm throwing myself into arts and crafts projects that make Martha Stewart look like a hot mess, but mixed media Mod Podge can't compete with skipping the country. Outrageous singing in the car, Dead Sea mineral face masks, Tommy Boy, and Bailey's clothes/shoes don't even do the trick. I'm going to have to get serious here: we're talking blood drives, weddings and probably another vegetarian phase.

Happy Birthday James Stewart!

James Stewart, you are eternally charming.

Other reasons today is a good day:
--banana pancakes and coffee for breakfast
--all the ingredients for hummus are out on the counter
--my Rome scrapbook is almost finished, only one year after I got home
--I'm a college graduate
--sunshine, bikini, blanket on my deck

Fiori

You can grow flowers

From where dirt used to be

-Kate Nash

May 10, 2010

What I have left to do to graduate:
1. Write a self-reflective essay about my progress and development as a writer/English major

What I have done instead, in the past 24 hours or so:
1. Spent far too much time trying to come up with a title for my screenplay so it did not sound like a porno
2. Took a criminology final
3. Found out the DVD limit at the library is 5, not 7
4. Ate free pizza
5. Found the keys to the Writing Center, napped, watched Betty White on SNL
6. Found a t-shirt in the Writing Center, claimed it as mine
7. Ate free pancakes and tater tots, wondered if I could book the Norbertones for a private party

Texts from Drew

Rachel I miss you and
your tender kisses?

Where are you going?
Where have you
been? I do not
question kisses.

Freedom

I dreamed about a broken birdcage;
from it the yellow bird flew.
Then I wrote my story in pencil
to erase the part about you.

[the true poem about today.]

Sometimes I Even Helped People Write Papers

Tonight I say arrivederci to the Writing Center after our last official business of the year (eating dinner, of course). Why will I miss my job there? Conversations like these:

Kate: Rachel, I just sent a text to your old number. Here's what I got back: "I'm feeling 100% Latina tonight."

-----------------------------------

Me (discussing names of characters): Does Jimmy make him sound too young? I just don't think James or Jim sound right.
Matt: Well I was going to go by Jimmy.
Me: You're Matt.
Matt: Yeah, but my middle name is Edward.

-----------------------------------

Chris (helping me write a film script): Why doesn't the scroll work on your laptop?
Me: It's finicky, like a woman.
Chris: Oh, so doesn't respond to my touch?

-----------------------------------

[After discussing the logistics of our senior portfolios, Matt curls into the fetal position on the floor.]
Me: Are you okay?
Matt: I think I'm just going to die right here.

This bothers me

Let's talk about how much I hate this commercial.



Okay. You're watching TV in the living room, and your daughter/wife comes in to vacuum. Do you:
(a)Turn off the TV and help her, then watch something together.
(b)Move to the basement to watch.

You chose (b). You are a tool. While watching TV in the basement, your son comes in to workout. Do you:
(a)Turn off the TV and join him.
(b)Move to the den to watch.

You chose (b) again. You are a piece of work. While watching TV in the den, your younger son gives away the end. Do you:
(a)Turn of the TV and play a game with him.
(b)Change the channel and watch something together with him.
(c)Move to the garage to watch.

You chose (c). You have a TV in your garage? Unbelievable. While watching TV in the garage (which is where you should be sleeping), the garage door starts to open. Do you:
(a)Get out of the way, then get out of the house and never come back. If you lived alone, no one would interrupt your TV watching.
(b)Move to the....where else could you possibly have a TV??

If you haven't guessed, I think this commercial sucks. Why don't you try to sell me a TV by showing my how I can completely remove myself from my family? While you're at it, reinforce gender roles by having a woman do housework and a skinny kid work out.

My Night in Poetry

Sorry, Dr. Risden, I Was Busy Reading Italian Feminist Poetry For Fun

I didn't read the book assigned for class.
Is that why my notes look like this?

      title: what sounded best
      Library - hallucinogen...moaning noises
      Women: evil/juvenile satire
      epiphany firework
      apocalypse shepherds

-----

Daisy Buchanan

Tonight I helped a student talk through the
seventeen ideas he has for a paper,
none of them on paper,
but (he taps his head),
"I am always thinking."

For this one he wants to talk about
cars and women,
but not cars as women,
because in reality,
"Cars are only ideal woman.
Real women are more maintenance."