Society and Culture Through Stupidity

Monday, 30 September 2002

my Society and Culture Through Film class is tor­ture. i’m pretty sure i’ve al­ready men­tioned this, but the things peo­ple say about movies in that class wound me. For in­stance:

Girl: I just wanted to say that I think it is in­ter­est­ing how they uh, like, never show the Indians be­ing killed, they just, like fall off their horses.

Professor (Brazilian ac­cent): That is a good point, il­lus­trat­ing the ca­sual at­ti­tude Americans take re­gard­ing the death of their en­e­mies.

Adam’s mind: …or it could be that the lim­i­ta­tions of the Production Code pre­vented film­mak­ers from show­ing death in a more macabre fash­ion un­til the early ‘70s, plus the fact that ‘re­al­is­tic’ spe­cial ef­fects that would en­able closer shots of bat­tle and death did not ex­ist at the time of the mak­ing of this film.

but hell, none of them are film ma­jors. then again, this isn’t a very good ex­am­ple of what a class about Visual Anthropology should be about. not one ethno­graphic piece is on the list. boool­ll­shi’!

Lonely Guy

Sunday, 29 September 2002

i’m a lonely guy, no doubt about it. it is my choice and my con­se­quence. but when­ever i de­cide to try and do some­thing about it, the stu­pid mat­ing game that must be played makes me sat­urnine. i am a man who does not like to bandy about emo­tions and i am not a man who is will­ing to in­dulge in care­less trysts to sat­isfy his lusts. i am also not a man who will al­ways be happy in tandem with his woman, eu­pho­ria is ethe­real and sub­stance con­sists of mix­ing wa­ter with dirt and mak­ing mud. i’m a cyn­i­cal guy, no doubt about it. it is my choice and my con­se­quence. it is the pro­duct of end­less bouts of beat­ing my head against the wall be­ing the un­co­or­di­nated kid no one wants on their team try­ing to un­der­stand the rules of the game while not even in­ter­ested in play­ing the stu­pid thing. if there are any women out there who feel the same way, ’tis un­for­tu­nate be­cause the state of ab­jec­tion cre­ated by our ex­clu­sion pre­vents con­sol­i­da­tion and di­a­logue by our very sta­tus as Other. archived

i’m as fine as any­one can be about be­ing alone. it is very low main­te­nance and al­lows me to im­prove my­self and fo­cus on what is im­por­tant for me. the prob­lem with be­ing alone is that you be­come too self-cen­tered and self-ab­sorbed and can forget…um, stuff. it is, how­ever, re­fresh­ing to be not con­cern your­self with hook­ing up and seek­ing a men­tally over­con­structed love af­fair, even though i still tend to con­cern my­self with both. i never said i could prac­tice my preachy­ness. its much eas­ier to han­dle re­la­tion­ships with women when I have noth­ing more in mind than sim­ple friend­ship.

i’ve come to a con­clu­sion. i want to have my cake and eat it too. i need the feel­ing of a healthy lov­ing re­la­tion­ship right now. how­ever, i don’t want any­thing to do in that ca­pac­ity with any girl around here. so in com­pro­mise i want a hook-up.

Chariot Race

Saturday, 28 September 2002

Today was the 5th an­nual Keough Hall Chariot Race. Last year, my sec­tion, 4B won the race. This year we were elim­i­nated in the 1st round. These char­i­ots are con­structed out of ply­wood and 2x4s by the var­i­ous dorms on cam­pus. Keough, as host, has a char­iot from each sec­tion. Our char­iot was con­structed by the ven­er­a­ble se­nior me­chan­i­cal en­gi­neer and ram­pant philadel­phian John Fay, my neigh­bor. He is a mas­ter of var­i­ous ar­cane things called ‘mo­ments’ and ‘de­grees of some­thin­gorother.’ Despite our chariot’s ex­cep­tional de­sign, the in­ex­pe­ri­ence of the run­ners was our demise. such is life.

be­sides char­iot rac­ing we also had mud wrestling and joust­ing, and to­gas were in vogue for the af­ter­noon. I have had 4 years to per­fect my cos­tume and de­meanor, and I dare­say I would make a good dead lan­guage speaker. I was also in­vin­ci­ble in the joust. I even jousted my rec­tor, he couldn’t keep his bal­ance and i couldn’t be knocked off. I am a king of the moun­tain. The beau­ti­ful Pom squad did a lit­tle dance for us as well. A good af­ter­noon.

Blessed Be

Friday, 27 September 2002

May a blesséd star shine upon Alissa and Sarah and Salim. I give them thanks a thou­sand times. As I strug­gled to haul my sev­eral hun­dred pounds of film equip­ment across cam­pus, I passed at least a dozen guys who I know. None of them asked to help. However when Alissa and Sarah saw me about to fall over from the weight of an Arri16BL and a light kit com­plete with sand­bags (mind you I was only about 50 yards out of my dorm) they im­me­di­ately of­fered to help me take them to Oshag. Sometimes girls are a hel­lu­valot cooler than guys. For the 2nd trip I en­listed Salim, the FTT ma­jor next door to as­sist me. He’s a good man and I didn’t want to trou­ble the pretty nice women any longer.

The Friday mp3

The Toadies have been a band I’ve lis­tened to since my fresh­man year in high school. They only put out two al­bums in 8 years and then they split but not be­fore com­ing plat­inum record seller for their al­bum Rubberneck. The Friday mp3 is the last song on the al­bum and my per­sonal fa­vorite, al­though every song on the al­bum is damn damn good. I Burn is in a word, brood­ing. A song about witch­craft and damna­tion, I’m pretty damn sure it is di­rectly in­spired as a re­ac­tion to the lead singer’s strict Southern Baptist up­bring­ing.

What is the Difference?

Thursday, 26 September 2002

what is the dif­fer­ence be­tween in­no­cence and con­fi­dence, plea­sure and hap­pi­ness? what am­bi­tions de­rive their source in our darker selves and what does the light side con­tain of power? why do inani­ties dis­tract us from mean­ing and struc­tured un­der­stand­ing of mo­ti­va­tion, de­sire, and ac­tu­al­iza­tion? why do we live out our time in rote mech­a­nisms that turn life into an ‘in­sert slot-A into con­nect­ing tab-B’ in or­der to get the cap­i­tal­ist bour­geois lifestyle that of­fers no true chance at mean­ing­ful ex­am­i­na­tion of life? why do i strug­gle against this while at the same time de­sir­ing the sim­plic­ity of a herd men­tal­ity life?

Sprinkler Madness

Wednesday, 25 September 2002

moth­er­fuck­ing, god­damn sprin­klers. i was all set up for my test shoot, the light­ing was done, the tal­ent was ar­riv­ing mo­men­tar­ily and then guess what happens…the moth­er­fuck­ing, god­damn sprin­klers turn on! ergo, i rushed about mov­ing ex­pen­sive cam­era equip­ment and lights around while jets of wa­ter squirt about me. shit like that al­ways hap­pens on film shoots. re­mem­ber what i said about sprin­klers a while ago? fuck the ab­surd. god­damn ex­is­ten­tial­ists. they make me nau­seous.

Fencing Conditioning

Tuesday, 24 September 2002

fenc­ing con­di­tion­ing is a rather in­ter­est­ing ac­tiv­ity. sure we do lots of foot­work, etc. but Zoltan our Euro as­sis­tant coach has his own unique meth­ods which i be­lieve are called the Idiotic Hungarian Jumping Drills. They are not id­i­otic be­cause they are un­ef­fec­tive, on the con­trary, they are good aer­o­bi­cally and mus­cu­larly. they are id­i­otic be­cause we look like men­tally de­fi­cient hy­per­ac­tive bono­bos while do­ing them. one drill in par­tic­u­lar is in­cred­i­bly ridicu­lous. we have to run the length of the gym ‘high-knees’ style while wind­milling both arms in op­po­site di­rec­tions. what i like least though is the one legged jump­ing. its fine for my right leg but it ab­solutely de­stroys my left leg. ac­eta­minophen and ice only do so much.

in other news, the quest for grad school con­tin­ues.