b l o g o s

i'll admit it, i've been looking forward to the oscars for weeks.

Last year I went to an Oscar party hosted by a grad student and her spouse. When guests walked in to the party, a sticker bearing the name of a previous best actor or actress winner was stuck to their back where they couldn't see, and then everyone got to go around trying to figure out who they were by asking questions about themselves. I knew I was on to something when I asked if I played a serial killer and I got looks like I was getting warm.

But it wasn't until we were all settled in watching the ceremonies and I noticed a few people cast unconscious glances my way when the camera cruised by Philip Seymour Hoffman that I flashed on who I was and why I'd won: Capote! One of my colleagues was Jon Voight, and I was the only one besides the hosts who even knew how to answer the person's questions, and not even that well. Yep, it was a young crowd--so young that some didn't seem to even remember when Hilary Swank won for Boys Don't Cry, or maybe I gave some bad clues. A totally fun night. And tasty chili and cookies.

The hostess of that party has moved on to a new job (sighyay), and so tonight I will watch the Oscars while snuggling with a whippet, eating my own damn cookies, and maybe--if I'm lucky--chatting online with E.

2

The twos have a reputation for being demanding and fretful. So maybe we should all go ahead and wish blogos a happy second blogiversary before it messes its diaper.

the newest member of my extended family tells it like it is.

cellophane flowers of yellow and green

A musical about 1960s counterculture set entirely to Beatles songs is somewhere between the worst and best idea in the world. JM and I went to see Across the Universe this afternoon. Visually, it's as tasty as the big peanut butter chocolate chip cookie I munched on through the previews, and this isn't just because the three main characters are exquisite (note to Roger Ebert: please, please, please show this film at your festival and get Jim Sturgess to visit C-U!). Anyway, it's downright kaleidoscopic at times.

The main main character (Sturgess) is named Jude, and toward the end I was frantically trying to recall the lyrics to "Hey Jude" so I could know if it would end happily or not. (I hate spoilers just as much as surprises, and so even musicals can be wrenching.) A scene in a bowling alley was definitely my favorite, though some of the other surreal stuff doesn't work so well (apologies to Eddie Izzard), and the trailer, which boils the movie down to all of its references to the Beatles, makes it seem a lot sillier than it is.

I'm afraid though that the world needs a bit more than love. In fact, on the walk back, we revised the lyrics. Mine were "Love is a good start," and JM's were "Love can't hurt." That's probably why I married a marxist.

another one writes the dust

Sorry, I couldn't help it, given the title of Queen guitarist Brian May's phd thesis handed in this week: "Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud." I must say I think the news is, like, beyond cool. Do all astrophysics dissertation titles sound like the name of a rocking album? What, oh what, is the thesis's last word? And will his defense look like this?

Dear Midmodern Scholar,

Thank you for your eloquent comment on Angel. I am so glad to know that you got DSL up in no-man's land (heh), because I swear I was thinking of digging up your address to write--as in handwrite--you a letter. Who does that anymore? But then I realized I probably only had that address on my old computer, and I figured I'd wait until I had a big list of things I needed to extract from said computer.

In any event, now that you have DSL I can tell you the things I wanted tell you:
1. Thank you for dropping off the entire Buffyverse. We love her. I have looked through all the dvd covers to see how SMG's hair changes and to compute the number of weeks we can make them last without feeling deprived (answer: about 10). Also, does something happen to Willow? Wait, don't tell me. Seriously.
2. We started a compost.
3. Even though we miss you desperately, JM and I decided it's probably best that you are away for this textbook phase; otherwise I would ask you to elaborate proverbs and compose long meditative inquires into people, laws, and ipods. But soon that will all be over, and you will be back.

til soon,
debbie

even if you don't get converted tonight you must admit that the band's pretty tight*

Last night we drove in to Madison to see The Hold Steady, which, I think, is currently JM's favorite band. They are well known for their lyrical edginess, and so it makes sense, I guess, that a poetry scholar would dig them. But who knew that I would like them so much live? When, during set-up, a roadie draped a towel near the drums, one near the keyboard, and then set a whole stack of them behind the main mic, I should have gotten a clue that we were in for an energetic performance.

The newly bearded lead singer Craig Finn is both a sweater and charmer, soaking through his short-sleeved plaid button down and beaming his big cheeky smile while playing his below-the-gut guitar. And in case his scruffy voice isn't enough, he gestures when he sings, emphasizing each word that needs emphasis (turns out nearly every other one does) with quick, purposeful flicks of his arms, wrists, fingers. He's shown pointing in the picture above, but most of his gestures are probably too fast for a regular camera.

The only regret I have is our choice of balcony seats which happened to be behind one of the band member's parents. When a mother is too loaded to work her video camera, it's probably time to sit on down.

*from "Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night"

whew.

I heart Will Ferrell.

"happy woman professor"

That's the search string that brought someone to blogos this evening. Amused woman professor is more apt. Ka-pow.

reverse horoscope

I'm working on a new genre, hatched in a convo with E, who best be writing one soon. Or actually maybe this genre is so obvious that it's not new at all, and what do I care if E writes one? Anyway, why not, we wondered, write horoscopes toward the end of a day for that day? Here's mine for today:

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Cancer. If the cold outside world makes the crab want to tuck its legs (or whatever those are) into its shell, then the crab should tuck its legs up into its shell (note: shell can mean either a. indoors, b. in bed, or c. both. preferably c since it's so damned cold outside). Anyway, you may be concerned about preparing for the busy week ahead or all that's been going on in the past few weeks, so you should definitely do something pointless in order to distract yourself.
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Uncanny.