Today I was tricked by a sixteen year old into talking about illegal drugs. It was clearly crossing some sort of appropriateness boundary, but there was no way I could explain to him why Lincoln ditched McLellan after his failure to follow up on Antietam when all he could talk about was how the codeine he took the other night didn't do anything for him. All I can say in my defense is that talking about drugs tricked him into thinking about the Civil War. The trickster has become the tricked, and I have violated some sacred part of the teacher-student relationship.
I watched Serenity. Kendall's attempt to put me in my place aside, the first hour and a half was funny and not up to the standard of the series. It was a kind of half-assed attempt to get outsiders up to speed. As a whole, the movie rocked my glands. I was so excited about that shit as it all wound up that I can't even describe it. I can say this, and I will: I choose to think that the "I am a leaf in the wind" nonsense is a hidden reference to the Hagakure. (Get it?) This makes what happens so very cool. How? By way of these ideals: It is a bad when one thing becomes two. Victory and death are sometimes achieved together. A word is the flower of the heart; it is not something said simply with a mouth.
Keep flying, Hoban.
I have added circuit training to my thrice weekly workouts. I am now hungry all the time. Now, I know why Tim was always eating eggwhites. The protein eases the hunger somewhat, but it burns away fast.
I went to Karaoke with Tom, Pat, Brandon, Leila, Joe, Erin, Glenn and Matt. I started out with a little Angels of the Silences, then I did some Friday I'm in Love. I changed it up with Black Dog and Jump Around. Burning Down the House followed. I finished with the Johnny Cash version of Hurt. Glycerine for the encore. People said my Friday I'm in Love was my best. I realllllllllly sucked on Black Dog. That was mostly because I had already lost my voice, but partly because the video on the screen was one of the worst things I have ever seen. It was a Pygmalion Galatea thing about a Hollywood photographer. It was pitiful.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Next time I see you, which should be soon, I'm going to poay you a hundred dollars to sing Hurt on a karaoke machine.
I'm not kidding. I want to hear it that badly.
I had "disclosure" as a vocab word yesterday, and I persuaded a roomful of 6th grade boys to all make embarassing disclosures. I had to put a stop to it when they started trying (especially one rather spoiled child whom you also know) to make them about other people. But a slight degree of impropriety is absolutely necessary to good class dynamics. Besides, it doesn't compare to my diss. committee member spending ten minutes talking about the possible relationship between the Latin meaning of "putas" and the Spanish and then attempting to look up "poontang" to see if the dictionary would explain the etymological connecction.
I fully agree about Serenity; I thought because of the pseudo-psych idiocy, the succumbing to the current poor-focus, spinning-camera fad of lazy filmmakers, and my perpetual difficulty getting used to Mal's stilted speech that I was going to be very disappointed and it was not up to Joss standards. But I was wrong. It was resplendent.
I'm curious about your rendition of "Glycerine," personally.
My favorite part of being a substitute teacher was watching the high schoolers react to me subverting their "sub" expectations. When I stopped the tape (gasp!) to chuckle that, no, "Hamlet" was not named after Shakespeare's son, and told them most of what I could remember of your Amlothi story, there were a few moments where you could almost hear mental gears stripping.
-Z
Post a Comment