“Halt! Identify yourselves, in the name of the Empire!”
The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities, some considered to be unnatural…
I am currently teaching a unit on imperialism in World History. We are working through the causes and effects of imperialism and the different strategies of empire building in order to ultimately determine if we think that the United States is/is not/was/was never an empire. We examined the Ancient Maya, China in the age of Dynasties, the Spanish, the British, and compared and contrasted their strategies, goals & ambitions, purposes, and results. Then we determined that, like all good social scientists, we needed a model in order to effectively assess all of these empires. Our archetype of empire is the Galactic Empire. To this end the students came up with a list of characteristics that they believed must exist to merit the label: Empire. The list looked something like this:
- Territory
- Army/military strength
- Influence
- Power
- Money
- Respected by others
- Allies
- Renown
- Strong leader, perhaps an autocrat, definitely with cult of personality
- The five elements of “civilization”, which include skilled workers, advanced cities, complex institutions, advanced technology, and record keeping
- Ambition
- Hierarchy
- Unique cultural traditions
- Independence
It is a rare and joyous moment when something like Star Wars is validated as meaningful academia. The idea that Star Wars could actually be a legit focus in the study of World History has been one of these moments. Of course, I now must tread lightly so as not to ruin something cool by ‘schooling’ it, but that is a chance I am willing to take.
As these students began to put together composites of the characteristics of the various empires we looked at – focusing specifically on their aims, ambitions, and methods as time (and let’s face it, attention) is always limited in high school you’ve gotta be selective, so we are – certain trends become clear. Trends not only in the characters of the empires and their imperial designs, but trends in the scholarship. This is fun when the students start to notice these things and ask questions….
Why did everyone think the Maya were all peaceful?
Why don’t we learn how they partied?
If the Maya calendar is so accurate, why don’t we use it? [Chased by the inevitable follow-up, 'cause then we're all gonna die in December!]
The second of our empires who aimed for a sort of self-sufficiency the Western World has never seemed to understand was Ancient China. My students seem to instinctively understand the Chinese response to Britain, “We don’t need you. We are awesome.” [On a personal note, I find it fascinating how this attitude has persevered throughout all of China's history and is alive and well today. Not that I disagree, but it is an interesting cultural legacy.] And the students totally understand China’s attitude because, well, because of their size, really. When we write on the board that the land area of China is 9,569,901 km sq (which I have to convert into square miles, thank you very much England… 3,694,959) and then I write down the land area of Britain, 241,930 km sq (and this is generous as it include the entire UK… 93,409) the kids laugh.
What? The Maya had more territory!
That is so small? Is it bigger now? [No...]
Hold on, why did they call it *Great* Britain?
Still, the students also seem to totally understand the shift in power once drugs are introduced, and the opium wars are one of the most logical lessons we’ve covered in History so far this year. But they are perplexed by the Treaty of Nanking and further confused by the Open Door Policy.
Um, I think I am reading this wrong because it seems like the Chinese got totally screwed in this Treaty. Who would sign this?
Wait, no one agreed to John Hay’s plan, but he said people did… and that worked? That’s like a Jedi mind trick! [smiles]
Uh, when did the United States even get involved?
Maybe everyone was smoking opium or something… [Ah, would that it were so simple...]
In general Britain confounds them. They fully understand the need for Britain to spread out and take over the world, but they don’t understand how they were able to do it. We talk about gunboat diplomacy and dollar diplomacy. We talk about short-term and long-term considerations (and miscalculations). They keep asking why Britain called itself great. We talk about how the sun never set on the British Empire. They mention that the Spanish had already used that saying a century or so earlier… and we consider the effectiveness of British imperialism as a commercial ambition and a matter of national pride. They seem to understand this. In contrast considering Spain’s hyper-religious focus, they seem to think the Brits had a better strategy by not alienating every non-Catholic on the planet. What was that going to do for them anyhow? they ask. I refer them to Mel Brooks in agreement.
All the while, pretty much every third question is, “When are we going to watch Star Wars???” [The other primary questions having to do with why Britain is *Great* Britain (insert all size matters jokes here, and trust I have been hearing them, these are sophomores, after all), and if we are going to watch all six Star Wars films. (I did mention they are sophomores, right? Disregard the idea that there are no silly questions...)]
And so tomorrow, it begins, in a galaxy not so far away, armed with all sorts of comparative data, and a timeline of the Galactic Empire from the year 19 B.B.Y. (the year the Empire was established) to the year 137 A.B.Y. (the year in which the Remnant of the Galactic Empire joins the Galactic Alliance, while all the displaced Siths are simultaneously infiltrating the emerging conjoined governments…) they will get a chance to examine the Galactic Empire, its aims, ambitions, strategies, the cyclical nature of imperial strength, and the ever-present Force to put the finally piece in place for their model of empire and identify the similarities they may see between the Galactic Empire and…
- The Empire of the Maya: ”Listen, I can’t get involved. I’ve got work to do. It’s not that I like the Empire; I hate it! But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. It’s such a long way from here.” – Luke Skywalker
- The Empires of Ancient China: “The Empire reaches far and wide, and is made up of countless individuals who all strive for the same overall goal: stability.” - Imperial Advisor Ars Dangor
- The Spanish Empire: “I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire!“- Darth Vader
- The British Empire: ”We must move quickly. The Jedi are relentless. If they are not all destroyed, it will be civil war without end.” – Palpatine
Then it falls to them to determine the state and/or existence of the American Empire…
“We are an Empire ruled by the majority! An Empire ruled by a new Constitution! An Empire of laws, not of politicians! An Empire devoted to the preservation of a just society. Of a safe and secure society! We are an Empire that will stand for ten thousand years!“―Palpatine
*all quotations from taken from Wookieepedia.
This pisses me off.
I am trying to be in a good mood and often that requires purposefully not thinking about things that piss me off, but this has been impossible to ignore (though I’ve done a pretty good job up until now.) In what has got to be one of the most criminal remakes of all time, a new Footloose has been released. And if logic holds wherein the ratio of advertisements to quality are inversely proportional, it really sucks. Adding insult to injury they covered the soundtrack as well… making it all countryfied. Let’s hear it for the Redneck? Come on.
So, I went to the website and checked out all the hullabaloo. Like for example, who the HELL would think this is a good idea?
Remakes in general pale… but I think if you are going to do a remake, do like Soderbergh did for Ocean’s 11 (granted, probably not #12 and #13…) But he took a pretty weak movie – even by camp standards – and made it something better. I’d say good even. That movie is serious eye-candy at the very, very least. Remaking Footloose is like remaking, what? Like… ummm… Better Off Dead. A great niche movie. I loved me some Better Off Dead. In 1985. Right where it belongs. And I like to be able to reach right back to 1985 when I want to. I do not want to have my 1985 becoming your High School Freaking Musical.
And this movie opened at number one. Seriously? The advertisements are showing the older side of the ‘tween market talking about how they were “a little unsure because it was, like, a remake… but OMG – we were dancing in the theater!! It was so amazing!” [It lost its first position to Real Steel, which I will refrain from judging simply based on the Hugh Jackman rule. And by the Hugh Jackman rule I pretty much mean, he is in it, and probably has his shirt off at some point.]
I have a slam book from my spring break trip to Washington DC in 1984 (remember those? I cannot believe there is a Wiki entry describing them. I should probably be more shocked that I still have them.) Anyhow, I have this book in which we wrote a bunch of stupid shit – “What is your favorite drink?” Answers: “Vodka and OJ, so great!” “Peach Schnapps!!!” Yes, the exclamation points are in the book and yes, it is highly improbable that any one who wrote those answers had any real firsthand knowledge… we were lucky to get our hands on Hamm’s or California Coolers. One of the pages asks: “What is the best movie EVER made??” Answers: “Totally Footloose!” “Oh my god, the best movie ever is totally Footloose!” [Do you need to know about the favorite songs? Ummm: #1, #2, #3 - I am sure Kenny Loggins and Deniece Williams were on there too.]
Obviously, this situation hurts me deeply. Scratching the fragile veneer of my pop culturally formed heart.
Please Hollywood, can’t you keep it real, even for a minute? STOP.THIS.MADNESS. What is next? You going to get on the Swayze Train and redo Dirty Dancing?
it came upon a midnight clear…
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. ~William Blake, 1790
Christmas Eve, Sandpoint, Idaho -
Last year I said I would be home for Christmas. And here I am. Though I have my moments of missing Hong Kong, this would not be one of them. I am knee-deep in Americana up in the North Woods. For real. There is a big old moon (just past full for that impressive lunar eclipse caught so wonderfully in the Petaluma sky by my friend Gabe) and snow on the ground. It is sparkly inside and out. It is warm inside. And I am with the core of my family – the epicenter as it were: the nuclear group.
And what of Christmas Eve? A walk down the snowy road returning to alpenglow and meeting a friend lighting ice lanterns [luminaria in the Norwegian tradition, imagine his dismay to realize his discovery a centuries old tradition, though none the less spectacular for its prior existence] at the end of the lane. These lanterns are so beautiful and fragile and temporary. This must be what makes them so spectacular.
life in a day
The old man said to me
Said don’t always take life so seriously
Play the flute
And dance and sing your song
July 24 was the day selected for a very interesting project spearheaded by Ridley Scott and Kevin MacDonald. The premise being that people all over the world – anyone from anywhere – would take to the streets in a common 24-hour period and film… anything. Then, people submit the videos and Scott and MacDonald are going to use the footage they deem worthy in what they are calling an “experimental documentary film” that will debut at Sundance next year. I love shit like this. This may be because I am an inherently nosy person, but I am okay with that.
In addition, MacDonald had four questions that I guess he is using as his guiding questions for the project and so if you wished you could film a video that also answered/addressed them. The questions were:
- What do you love?
- What do you fear?
- What makes you laugh?
- What’s in your pockets and what’s the story there?
I really wish I were more adept at video because I would have loved to have done it. I thought about it a lot. But I did not do it. [On principle that sort of behavior really bothers me, because the more I think about it the more I realize: I could have done this.] If I would have done it I would have used the varied clips of footage from the day to create a montage that addressed the questions…. all of which I am contemplating about in response to another cool project/concept I am thinking about that asks us to consider: “Why do you do what you do?”
I spent the day in San Francisco and as I headed home I thought about all the people I had interacted with and how I would have endeavored to capture their presence on video. And I thought about those questions. (more…)
My Twilight Saga: or “How I learned to stop worrying and love Donnie Darko all the more.”
“Doesn’t he own a shirt?”
[I must start this story by telling you three things: 1) I adore my friend J, 2) Matilda is not in this story... directly and 3) The above quote is categorically the best line in the entire movie.]
On Friday I was down in San Francisco to take care of some very important business (hair appt) and made plans to meet up with J afterwards for dinner and a movie or something. I was kind of excited, having just seen Inception (still pondering necessity of a blog there but it seems to have been done, exponentially) and Salt was opening. I thought seeing Angie get her groove on (or off) would be a nice follow-up. But then J gave me some interesting information: she wanted to see Eclipse, the third movie in, not the Twilight Series, but the self-titled, SAGA. I laughed, certain she was joking.
That should teach me.
7:45 p.m., Lowes at the Metreon, A & J were seeing Eclipse.
The brief and wondrous life of Oscar – WOW!
Sunday there was quite a lot of pre-Oscar speculation at my house as we all completed our ballots to see who could pick the most winners of the 24 major award categories for the 2010 Academy Awards. I find that just about everything is more fun when you have a wager on the line. [Sue won with a tie-breaker over Vickie, both having guessed 12 correctly...] One big disadvantage of living in Asia is that we do not get a lot of the hype associated with the movies nor do we get a chance to see a lot of them in the theaters, certainly not prior to the Academy award telecast. [Though, The Hurt Locker is coming now, and as I was walking through the Causeway Bay station on my way to work about an hour after the end of the live telecast in Los Angeles, I saw the poster for it and it says winner of 6 Academy Awards - that was fast! (On second thought the sign is in Chinese so I suppose the "6 blahblahblah 9" could mean something else...)] On the other hand one of the big advantages is that we have almost all of the movies (save for foreign films, documentaries, and shorts – far too, what? Too cultural? I don’t know…) on DVD thanks to our very industrious pirated entertainment industry. So, among us we had seen a pretty significant number of the films up for awards.
It made for a very lively discussion (along with whether or not my neighbor, now living in Saigon would vie to defend his impressive win (21 of 24) from last year, via the interwebs. (He did not…) Sue was sure Mo’Nique would win, Vickie and Andre had their money on Sandra, I knew this would be the year The Dude would Abide, Jerry was simply convinced that Avatar was not good enough for a Best Picture win, but conceded that it might… We vacillated between The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Coraline lot about the animated features, which in hindsight was kind of lame since, as Neil Gaiman pointed out, when one of the cartoons is also nominated for Best Picture, it is probably going to get the nod in the Animated Feature category. Personally, I was totally pulling for the regional flavors in the documentaries and I didn’t get either with Burma VJ or China’s Unnatural Disaster.
In general, the whole spectacle is just an excuse for a party and a chance to banter on pop culture phenoms. I have always loved the Oscars and I am not entirely sure why. The telecasts can be terribly tedious, the hosts can be painful, the politics too much or not enough, and the Red Carpet interviewers (hosts?) generally make me want to punch something. But still, I love it. The clothes, the couples and the speeches.
Oh, and the “In Memoriam” part always makes me cry. Serious. This year they did not include Farrah Fawcett and some people were pissed about that, but I am not sure she was ever in a movie, was she? I don’t know, maybe they should have put her in simply because her death got totally overshadowed by MJ. I am always amazed – and saddened in a strange way as I certainly do not know any of these people – when I watch this segment. I guess it serves to remind me of the fragility or the inevitability of death. Doesn’t matter if you are a SuperStar or drive a big fancy car…
Brief and wondrous.
And in the spirit of brevity, right after the touching images and voice overs, we’re right back to the best and worst dressed. As I mentioned, not “watching” the awards live but through various live feeds (this year substantially bolstered by live Twitter feeds from a variety of sources, most notably the aforementioned Neil Gaiman) I saw mostly still images. I thought Sandra Bullock, Rachel McAdams and Penelope Cruz looked stunning. Nicole Richie! No idea why she was there, but she looked amazing. JLo <– WTF? Demi Moore was making it work and Charlize Theron could probably not look bad if she tried… oh wait, she actually did try once, but not here, though her dress was totally boobie-centric. Not interested in the dudes, sorry – all looked the same-ish. Oh, except RDJ, he always brings it and his wife’s dress was AWESOME. Kate Winslet looked hot too… why is everyone always on her case? The Grande Dames were working it too… Helen and Meryl FTW.
Everyone was loving on Cameron Diaz and Zoe Saldana… I am not sold. And that Twilight girl – gack. Oh, and SJP? The color was ace, but, um… yeah. And could someone please tell me what Whiney Cyrus is doing at the Oscars? On that note, Kathy Ireland? I tripped right back to 1986 on that note. Mariah Carey… eeewwwww. This link pretty much indicates that I do not share my taste with the majority of people polled. Good thing I don’t care. And these links are more interesting.
After the fashion brigade, I like to contemplate the books or stories that I would like to see make it to the big screen. And there are a few. Of course the much mentioned Steig Larsson books would be a good time (the Swedes already made them for T.V. I think), The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie would be very good, or Counting Coup: A True Story of Basketball and Honor on the Little Big Horn – I would like to see some modern Native American young-adult stories. And one that I have been contemplating as a great screen play for some time now is The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz. On a semi-realted note, I am hoping to go to see Junot Diaz next Tuesday in Hong Kong when he delivers a talk as part of the Man Hong Kong Literary Festival.
Would that I were a screen play writer…
Brief and wondrous sounds okay, for a day: at the Academy, followed by a party at Morton’s…
And finally, Avatar.
I saw it last night.
I went to a late, late, late show (for me.) This meant no 5:35 or 6:55 a.m. ferry to town for yoga this morning, so considering that fact, you know I really wanted to see it. The UA cinemas at Times Square are sort of old school, but one thing is for sure, the aircon works a treat. I froze my ass off. But I actually didn’t think about it too much until I re-entered reality and walked outside to find normal temperatures. Whatever may be said about the movie, one thing is for sure… it is a full-on immersion experience. I am not sure why I waited so long to see it, likely the logistics and the length of the movie had much to do with it, but I knew I had to see it before we have the annual Oscar party at my place this weekend.
So, nine Academy Award nominations, four Golden Globe nods and two wins, eight BAFTA potential wins coming away with only two (I have some thoughts on this), and the NY Film Critics Online, Critic’s Choice, Broadcast Film Critics, among others have all noted the film for everything from directing to technical merit, though none for the acting. That speaks to the BAFTA performance I think, and it is probably fair play. This film has been a ginormous money-maker and in typical Cameron form, it has a lot of the standard features of a commercial epic. This does not include stellar acting, though it does include good-looking people. And I say this without the slightest hint of disappointment, I do not see Cameron’s movies to be astounded by thespian prowess, I see them for the sheer scale of audio and visual ass-kicking.
And here, Avatar delivers.
3-D is so much fun, and this 3-d experience was particularly impressive. I especially liked how the ewya and other smaller ethereal things floated out at the audience. The concept of the planet Pandora was also visual euphoria with the colors and the sparkles and the texture. It reminded me of what the Atlantis Casino in Reno must be aiming for, and also a long ago evening spent in the Wizard of Oz themed bar at the MGM Grand in Vegas when it used to be like a munchkin forest. Suffice it all to say, it is reminiscent of certain experiences one may have had that one does not want to necessarily detail in a public forum. It will leave you a bit agog, and my eyes got tired because I realized in several instances I was forgetting to blink.
With regard to the plot… I thought there were a couple of holes… but again, I am not sure that is the point, and I definitely enjoyed the human race in the role of the antagonist. [It is like a bog old "Duh" moment.] And what of the acting? Well, exactly. And as above, who cares. It is not like you were really all that unsure of the outcome. It’s like when I was waiting in line to see Titanic way back when and we were joking aloud about how the film ends, “I mean, the ship’s gonna sink, right?” And this woman behind us got all upset. Wait, did she not realize? Oops. For her. I was a little disappointed that it has to be the human/Na’vi who saves the day and tames the wild beast and wins the hot (I think) girl and all that. But it couldn’t really go any other way, could it? I mean then it would just be like Fantasia or something… visual masterpiece where you leave wondering what everyone in the place was smoking. I think you have got to keep certain elements a little simpler when you are going so full-bore for another. It is like balance in fashion: if you wear denim on the top, you would never wear it on the bottom at the same time would you? No, I did not think so. Or in make up: Dark eyes – light lips, and vice versa. It’s standard.
Cameron’s message about appreciating the environment lest we end up totally fucked like the humans of 2145 in the film is significant, and probably most people will glean this aspect. The more subtle suggestions touching on things like interconnectivity, even elements of quantum physics like entanglement and coherence, were much more interesting to me. Those are things that I believe in (does that make them true – quién sabe) and so they are the things I took away from the story of Avatar. As far as it being an Oscar winner for the Best Picture? That will really depend on one’s interpretation of the word “picture.” If it is about the visual imagery, I think Cameron gets the win. If it is a more global context, like meaning, and synthesis and plot development… not so much. I have a feeling though, that the Academy will come down to dinero. I mean, what other reason could there be for including ten pictures in the Best Picture category this year, with the full knowledge that they are definitely NOT all Best Pictures.
I did read that Cameron planned to do two sequels to Avatar if it was successful. The success question has been answered. Shame about the addiction to sequels, it would be so nice to let something stand alone these days. I believe Avatar could do that just fine.
I’d like to thank the Academy…
Every year, I host an Academy Awards party on Oscar® Sunday©. In the States it was kind of different because my party actually incorporated the awards telecast and we could do silly things like dress up or whatever. Over here in GMT +8, we do it differently. They do televise the awards eventually, usually on Monday night after everyone has worked out who won, who looked like shit and who won the coveted Red Carpet Douche-Bag award.
Some things remain the same though: we still pick the winners and have a little pool to see who can out guess the guessers Academy. This year I think I am going to add some categories like Best/Worst dressed, Best/Worst lines, or Best/Worst audience appearance, just for a little more variety. And we have champagne, ’cause we are classy like that. Oh, and one other thing we can do here, thanks to the fabulous Asian copyright laws, is that we can hand out the movies as swag because they are easily purchased in any SE Asian locale. We have ‘em all. [Okay, except Avatar.]
And so, as the necessary prelude to the March 7 (or 8th) event, “The Academy” announced the Oscar® nominees a couple of days ago. [Their website has a countdown in case you have lost the ability to use a calendar.] This of course precipitated the standard litany of commentary on the oversights, the poor judgment, the obvious make-up calls, the general dissatisfaction with the list. It’s predicable and fabulous and a part of the cultural fabric to which I always look forward.
It’s a Shocker.
I have a friend in Hong Kong who I have mentioned here before… I call her Frenchie. Because she is French. Not original, but catchy enough that it has become a bit of a nom d’jour. Or I could just be feeling self-important. Regardless, I mention Frenchie tonight for this reason: We have nothing in common. Seriously. It has become somewhat of a joke because it is pretty much a guarantee that if I like something she will hate it, and I have to say, if she likes it, I think it is pretty much garbage. Ironically, this has actually worked to our advantage and having our one commonality be that we have a shared mutual disregard for the preferences of the other turns out to be something pretty significant to have in common. She is the perfect one to share food with – she loves what I hate. We will never fight over the last anything because for sure if she wants it, I definitely do not. I like cats, she says she likes dogs (though she refers to N & M as her niece and nephew… or wait, that could be me… I don’t even remember). She likes pâté, I like vegetables. She likes bright colorful clothes, I like black. She likes heavy reds, I like Pinot. She likes the outside of the brie, I like only the middle. She hates to plan, and you know how I feel about that. She thinks the internet is crap, (and though I am starting to see her point of view there, I am resistant to giving it up…) She likes white chocolate, I like the darkest you can find. She hates the word “fuck” and counts how many times she hears it in the American movies she cannot stand but watches to humor me, and well, you know how I feel about the world’s most versatile word… You get the idea; we are a veritable Bert and Ernie. And yes, I am certainly the Bert.
Anyhow, on the odd chance that we ever do agree on anything, we always laugh, and it is a guarantee for a good conversation.
Tonight, Frenchie brought a movie over to watch – and it could not have been more perfect for the two of us. It is called “Bottle Shock.” [Imagine my surprise on seeing the DVD cover that it was called Bottle SHOCK as ever since she has been talking about this film I thought she was saying Bottle SHOP. Just one more area where we make it work - I cannot count the times where one of us has told an entire story to the other only to realize at the culmination of the long and inevitably circuitous and detailed account, the other has no appropriate response to offer as comprehension was lost from the second sentence. Now we just look at each other and say, "You have no idea what I am talking about do you?" And carry on.] But Bottle Shop Shock was an interesting call.
The premise of the movie is about the introduction of delicious (me) rubbish (Frenchie) California wine into the snobby (me) discerning (Frenchie) wine culture of France. And it was pretty good. The movie made me incredibly homesick with the sweeping views of the Napa and Sonoma Valleys – I come from one of the most amazing places on the planet – and I think for Frenchie the scenes of Paris and France in the Seventies had the same effect. It was a funny shared sentiment. While we watched the movie we shared a bottle of Sonoma County Zinfandel. We both liked it. We also had some cheese and crackers (I ate the middle of the brie, she the rinds.) And we had some black pepper Boursin as well, which we both agreed was inferior to the garlic variety. We were freakishly in synch.
Oh, and we totally agreed on the presentation of the Brits in the film, but then, that is one of our few and far between standard shared sentiments. [As when Alan Rickman's character says, "Because you think I'm an arsehole. And I'm not, really. I'm just British and, well... you're not." A mutual nod took place. Or when Dennis Farina's character says, "Where I'm from, they call it a left-handed compliment. They don't have a name for it in England: it's too ingrained in their culture." We both totally get it.]
The film has a great cast [and the California rental car is a Gremlin, seriously, rad] - and though it is admittedly lighter fare than say, Sideways (not to mention lacking Thomas Hayden Church – though Farina is a good call, I can’t ever really dissociate him from Get Shorty…) it is a fun little film along with which to throw back a nice bottle of a California vintage.
And you might just realize that the things you think are so different might not actually be all that discernibly oppositional in nature at the end of the day.
Mojo Rising.
The phases of life are pretty interesting. We are really into one thing, then another then another. Could be maturation. Could be capriciousness or dilettantism. Lately I am less concerned with micromanaging these phases, but I get a little bothered when they impede my ability to do things I like. For instance, I have had the hardest time writing these past few days. My brain is full and my eyes are open. But – nothing seems to be happening. I mean, lots of things are happening, just absent of words.
I feel like I have lost my mojo.
I better take a look around, see which way the wind blows….
OMG – A full-on Monet.

One of my students is sort of an expert on French literature these days. Zola, Balzac, Flaubert. The whole thing is rather impressive. She has been analyzing one particular scene in Madame Bovary for a while now, looking at how Flaubert uses the hotel room where Emma and Leon meet as a way to basically call Emma out on her affectations and pretensions. And pretty much insinuate that she is a stupid cow it appears. We have had some laughs over the excerpt: “arrow-headed [curtain] rods,” “big balls [gleaming on the fender],” “big, pink” conch shells… And spent a good deal of time trying to come up with lots of synonyms for tawdry, cheap, and a general lack of sophistication, the premise being that the room in which Emma finds herself ensconced in the glory of romantic love is really just a cheap imitation of her ideals, and really rather poorly thrown together. I made my student laugh when I said I felt sorry for Emma because she reminded me of someone who goes to Vegas and says (in my best Britney drawl), “Oh my gaww! Lookit! It’s jus’ so beautiful! Lookit all how niiiiice it is!”
The room is described at once as plain, frivolous, tranquil, passionate, delightful, intimate, faded, splendid. My student said thrown together. I said hodgepodge. She raised her eyebrow. I said, “It’s like a full-on Monet.” She said, “What?”
Emma Bovary has colored her expectations by her own illusions/delusions/desires (we are still debating whether or not Emma is stupid or delusional, or really, sort of typical in her fantasies – the debate seems to fall along an interesting age divide – she seems perfectly plausible to me as I compare her to a lot of people I know, not so to my seventeen year old counterpart who sees her an inept idiot.) Emma’s perspective, based primarily on her adoration of what Geoffrey Wall calls sub-literary trash, seems so pathetically transparent when you look at it in the abstract. But she does not look at things in the abstract (due to inability or choice, I do not know) and so she colors entire chapters of her life with sweeping strokes of grandeur.
Emma sees connections, suggestions, and relationships between things that the audience, and certainly Flaubert, see as completely unrelated at best and in direct opposition to Emma’s reality at worst.
So, is this a lack of discernment or an astute ability to synthesize? This question has got me all perplexed.
Do I suffer from an inability to discern when, through the course of an hour lesson, I can call up images of Las Vegas, French literature, Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, impressionist art, Britney Spears, and the singular significance of a specifically placed comma? Or am I a master of synthesis? I can only hope that I am not contributing to the production of ‘sub-literary trash’ (though I LOVE the label) but still I see such a need for abstract analogies sometimes that it makes me wonder. It is the age old quandary of the sum versus the total of the parts. I suppose one’s goal makes all the difference. For now, I think I am sticking with the hodgepodge effect. Realistically, I am not sure I could stop at this point.
Tai: Do you think she’s pretty?
Cher: No, she’s a full-on Monet.
Tai: What’s a monet?
Cher: It’s like a painting, see? From far away, it’s OK, but up close, it’s a big old mess. Let’s ask a guy. Christian, what do you think of Amber?
Christian: Hagsville.
Cher: See?

Out Back in the USA, numero cuatro: My Santa Fe Trail

It has been a long, long time since I was in Santa Fe. Too long by all readily available accounts. The family member to time ratio was also not completely in my favor as there was to be mucho activity in a small amount of time. It made for a fabulous, if manic paced mini-week in the Southwest. This was my fourth regional variation since I got to the States and another reminder of the amazing geography of the American West. I am sure I have mentioned this already a million times, but it is so nice to be back in clean environments. I miss clean air a lot lot lot.

Santa Fe’s elevation is over 7,000 feet (for everyone in the world outside of America, that would be more than 2,100 meters/metres.) It is an awesomely arid climate and a true painted desert. My uncle was very worried about my water consumption for all of those reasons. And in spite of my sturdiness and stubbornness, I acquiesced and made sure to hydrate. (I never did get a headache or really, even winded. Yay me.) The city also has building regulations that keep things looking, well, Santa Fe-ish, so it has a consistent aesthetic, which is cool, because it is a good one. The adobe and the chile ristras were a welcome sight. It is also the time of year where green chiles are being roasted everywhere so the place smelled fantastic, and of course my gastronomical tour continued. (It is probably fair to admit I miss the food from home at least as much as the cleanliness.) While in Santa Fe I would be seeing my grandma, my mom’s sisters and their families – two of my cousins who we determined I had not seen in eight years, and in the words of Lowell, “that is so wrong.” Also friends who are basically family that I’ve just missed terribly. It is weird how much you can miss people even with all of the other crazy stimuli that permeates daily life.

I did a lot of stuff in Santa Fe… eating, drinking, visiting, hugging, laughing, a couple emo moments (yes, mom, you are not the only one on the ’09 Emo Tour), yoga, eating more, shopping, chile coveting and future planning. It was clearly a very busy time.
What I took away from Santa Fe most noticeably was a reinvigorated sense of myself within the context of my family. That sounds cheesy, but I cannot think of a better word. I commenced birthday celebrations for the big 39 there too and in a lot of ways it just really felt like coming full circle. My cousin Claire is now a senior in high school. When I told my girlfriends this they couldn’t believe Baby Claire was almost 18; they all remember her from photos in Trento when she was maybe two… and I was feeding her strawberry gelato sans parental permission. Time does fly. Lowell is driving now and maybe even contemplating a visit to Asia in the not too distant future. We will see. The one thing that is certain is that there cannot be so much time between visits next time. Lowell, is right, it is just Wrong.

And then there was grandma. She looks terrific and had some moments of heartbreaking lucidity. I am so glad I saw her and say again, it is just never enough.

I would do dinner parties every night over and over like we had in Santa Fe, it was just too much fun.
And I feel confident in saying – that time is coming.
My mom, my aunts and I went and saw It Might Get Loud, which was great fun and as I thought back on it, also really an appropriate tag line for our time together in New Mexico. At one point my uncle was saying how it has been hard for him, on occasion, to get a word in edgewise around all of us. As I looked around the table at mom, Nancy, TT, Ellen, myself, Nubia and the kids, I thought, “Yeah… we are a raucous crowd, and it is awesome!”
It definitely WILL get loud.
xoxo
“Inside all of us is a Wild Thing”

To make such a perfect book as this one, a feature film would be a challenge for the most gifted writers. Thank goodness it is Dave Eggers who heeded the call. The poster for the movie already has me all emotional; I have always loved to be be where the wild things are.
Let the wild rumpus begin!!
Hell hath no fury… Seriously.

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
~ William Congreve, The Mourning Bride, 1697
People make jokes about this line all the time… like, “Oh snap, don’t make her mad, you know how a girl gets!” or, “Damn, why’s she so pissed off? Well you know what they say…” But it dawned on me this morning, in a grey moment of epiphany, that I actually proved this maxim recently. I experienced such complete and focused rage directed towards a very particular individual because of their unbelievable dissing of me that I can only express it in terms like <Hell Hath No Fury> Now, said individual’s behavior was egregious and in many ways inexcusable, but that is not what interests me anymore. I am more interested in the levels of anger that it inspired within me. To. My. Core.
Why? Why did it make me so angry? Well, lots of reasons come to mind, but they seem silly when I look at them on their own. And frankly people I know far more intimately and far more concretely have done things that are far worse and not inspired even an iota of the ire I am talking about here. So, what was the deal?

I honestly contemplated doing things to this person that are beyond outrageous. I considered tweeting his phone number… posting the NSFW photos he sent me to a public web domain and linking it to him… spamming his email… forwarding his emails to me to random people who may or may not have anything to do with him… making his physical address known to all and sundry. Seriously, I contemplated all of these things. And I reveled in the satisfaction of reigning down vengeance on this person. This single, inconsequential, small, little person. The irony.
Of course, I did not do these things – though I could have. But I am absolutely mystified as to why I wanted to… It was so completely out of character for me. I mean seriously, I have put up with some whacked out bullshit from people that I have just blown off… but this really got to me. And the more I let it get to me, the more I saw this unfamiliar rage rise up. To be honest, it was a little scary.
I was thinking about this as I chilled out in Bangkok last weekend, and you know, while I was there the whole thing seemed so remote – so distant – so tiny, that it was even more perplexing as to why it got to me so severely. At various times I had chalked the whole thing up to a lack of information, humiliation, disrespect, deceit… to name but a few. I imagine it has a bit to do with all of those things. But notice, none of them indicate an emotional connection – like heartbreak, say. Or betrayal. It was totally ego-driven. Wow. And, ironically, the bruised ego seems to subsequently act in ways that are actually truly humiliating.
As I sat poolside at the Mandarin Oriental, sipping a cool drink and reading Cosmo, yes – actually on purpose, I saw an article about stalkers. Now, I have been stalked, and I take that shit quite seriously. This article was discussing how casual interactions can lead to stalking and one sort of off topic line jumped out at me: “…that he would even want to engage with someone who was not even remotely interested in him was…” And I was like, “Holy shit. Why am I even interested in working any of this out with someone who has made it clear that they are not even remotely interested in the same?” I mean, how contradictory in nature for someone with a sensitive ego… I was not stalking this person, but the mental energy was certainly comparable.
How. Totally. Embarrassing.
Ouch.
So, yeah, Congreve’s line might better be expressed as ‘Hell hath no fury as an ego wronged.’ [I think it best to remove the gender qualifier since it is reported that the majority of violent crimes against women are perpetrated by men who believe they have been you know - faced.]
In the end… I am glad I did not act on my ideas for revenge. He is not worth it. And even though I got this email from him recently that made me want to immediately jump right back into his quagmire of crap…
I know that I treated you badly and I’m sorry. I would just rather forget the whole experience. Some messed up shit, that I care not to go into, happened in April. Please don’t contact me again; I don’t want to rehash any of this. I wish you the best.
…I abstained. And I will abstain. For, while plotting revenge is sweet, and a righteous good time… carrying it out seems scary and creepy and yucky. And I definitely do not want to share in his karma. In the end I prefer my revenge served up by others, on others, for pure entertainment value: Like you can see here in the 20 Best Revenge Movies.
And one night in Bangkok worked that all out for me… Just in time.






“Doesn’t he own a shirt?”









