E. E. Cummings on Winter

Saturday, 30 November 2002

ladies and gen­teel men, i give you…winter!

~

s(

the­se out of in
finite no
where,who;arrive s
trolling­ly

:alight white­ly and.

)now
flakes:are;guests;of t
wi
ligh

t

~

the above po­em brought to you by e.e. cum­mings.

its snow­ing!

Bushelbasketed

Wednesday, 27 November 2002

who loves the hid­den sides of our­selves? if we give us a com­pli­ment on ex­pressed ac­tiv­i­ty why do we de­mur, or give back­hand­ed grat­i­tude? why then do we get blue when our bushel­bas­ket­ed tal­ents with­er in ob­scu­ri­ty? why is it so hard to ex­press love and the things of con­se­quence to each oth­er? why do we ques­tion in­stead of act­ing?

Assembly of Vice Versa

Monday, 25 November 2002

last night i put to­geth­er an as­sem­bly of the rush­es for Vice Versa. i think to­day we’ll prob­a­bly watch them in class. I’m pret­ty sure the rest of class time is go­ing to be spent watch­ing clips. and talk­ing about clips. or lis­ten­ing to Bill talk about clips. in min­ute and down­ward spi­ral­ing de­tail. i’d much rather just jump on the Steenbeck and go to town.

Slipping Beauty

Sunday, 24 November 2002

–she looked up at me over her falafel and told me about her plans for spain. lots of lit­er­a­ture it sounds like, and a film class that counts for lit­er­a­ture. i wish i could read her. it is so easy spend­ing time idly catch­ing up and its true, as she says, that when we are around each oth­er there re­al­ly isn’t a need for do­ing so.

she’d nev­er been to Elia’s which sur­prised me. its is awe­some mediter­ranean food. i was pret­ty sure she was a veg­e­tar­i­an, and Elia’s has a great se­lec­tion of said cuisine. per­son­al­ly, as an om­ni­vore, i went with the kaf­ta.

some­one told me that she had bro­ken up with her boyfriend. i didn’t bring it up. i like her, but as things work out, my last se­mes­ter here she will be in Toledo. Where is the point in try­ing to see if she is in­ter­est­ed? I still re­mem­ber work­ing with her at the Huddlemart and crush­ing on her qui­et in­ter­est.

the same some­one who told me al­so heard from the same per­son that told the some­one who told me that she likes me alot. if of course i am the Adam that lives in Keough and is on the fenc­ing team. (i’m 87% sure that it is me).

she just turned 21, 2 days be­fore my 22nd. she seemed to have had an en­joy­able birth­day. and last night she had a wine and cheese par­ty which i was in­vit­ed to, but did not go to be­cause i had a bad hot­dog be­fore the game and was slight­ly nau­se­aous.

so is this beau­ty slip­ping away? is this an­oth­er end­ing? i don’t think i want it to be

Last Home Game

Saturday, 23 November 2002

my last home game as a se­nior at Notre Dame has just end­ed. right now i am sob­bing my eyes out. no longer will i be able to ex­pe­ri­ence the uni­ty and spir­it of the stu­dent sec­tion at a home game as a mem­ber of the stu­dent body. as much as i have hat­ed it here, see­ing my friend PJ cry­ing af­ter the al­ma mater was played struck a chord deep with­in me. it hurts. oh god, it hurts. sit­ting next to PJ who was a mem­ber of my sec­tion fresh­man year, and cry­ing with him re­mind­ed me of each year of my time here and the mem­o­ries as­so­ci­at­ed with it. Freshman year my seats were in the end­zone and i paint­ed my en­tire body for every game. sopho­more year was sim­i­lar ex­cept that my seats moved a lit­tle far­ther down­field. ju­nior year i learned a lit­tle safe­ty and start­ed wear­ing ac­tu­al clothes to the cold­er games. and this year, my se­nior year has ex­ceed­ed all ex­pec­ta­tion. i nev­er ex­pect­ed to be 10 – 1. i nev­er planned that my last home game as a stu­dent would be again­st the same team that my first Notre Dame game was again­st: Rutgers. both games were shutouts and both con­tain their own spe­cial au­ra. this is the first great end­ing in my life as a se­nior. when i called my moth­er she didn’t ac­tu­al­ly think i was cry­ing. she didn’t re­al­ly un­der­stand, which is ok. next, i called my un­cle Corbin, who took me to my first home game. he un­der­stood. it is in­cred­i­bly hard to not have any feel­ings for a team and a stu­dent body that you have re­joiced and sobbed with through vic­to­ry and de­feat for 4 years. oh god, i want my team to do so well, and i want to help them in any way i can. my heart is on the field with them every time they play. i might not un­der­stand the in­tri­ca­cies of foot­ball but dammit i know what it feels like to want to win with all your pow­er. its so won­der­ful and so hor­ri­ble. at least i rec­og­nize the im­por­tance of this day, but it hurts so much to know it will nev­er hap­pen again, in this same way. i re­mem­ber my sopho­more year and our game again­st #1 Nebraska. we took those moth­er­fuck­ers to over­time de­spite their sea of red. my fresh­man year, beat­ing Michigan at Michigan, and rub­bing salt in­to the wounds of those un­sports­man­like bas­tards. the de­ba­cle of the Fiesta Bowl and Bob Davie and his whin­ing. our los­ing sea­son my ju­nior year. and then, this year, not over yet, but glo­ri­ous all the same. an 8 – 0 start with a new coach Tyrone, who is noth­ing but busi­ness and re­spect, who rec­og­nizes and de­sires our par­tic­i­pa­tion and de­mands in the most im­por­tant ways, ex­cel­lence from my team: Notre Dame. This year has taught me what it means to be a Notre Dame fan. what it means to love a team, and scream un­til you lose your voice for vic­to­ry. when each half fights for the oth­er vic­to­ry is al­most as­sured. my tears have dried up a bit. but i hope the mem­o­ries nev­er will. this cry­ing sad­ness is a good one, i have loy­al­ty, re­spect, and dri­ve for my fel­low stu­dents, and i love the ways in which we show our own dri­ves for ex­cel­lence.

I’ve Got to Move Out of This Neighborhood

Friday, 22 November 2002

Before we get to the mp3 i’ve got some news. my good friend Meagan paint­ed me this sweet ass wa­ter­col­or from Lord of the Rings, Its when Sam helps Frodo out of the wa­ter af­ter Old Man Willow has en­tranced them. Its fark­ing badass. I have one and you don’t so there.

al­so, here are some pics from my film shoots and from the trip to Penn State.

The Friday mp3

I’ve cho­sen a song by B.B. King this week. I’ve Got to Move Out of This Neighborhood (Nobody Loves Me but My Mother). If you know any­thing about the blues I don’t need to say any­thing. If you know noth­ing about the blues…listen and learn.

Too Much Work

Thursday, 21 November 2002

i spent my birth­day asleep. i went to bed at 9:30. may­be i am de­pressed. i have three weeks to com­plete 22 pages of pa­pers and to ed­it my 16mm film. my day be­gan at 8am and will end at 1am to­mor­row morn­ing. i went to sched­ule a hair­cut for some­time next week and then went to the li­brary to watch the movie i missed on sun­day be­cause my film noir teacher for­gets stu­dents have oth­er things to do be­sides his class and as­signed an ex­tra screen­ing. ei­ther that or i was go­ing to watch a film for my 10 page film noir pa­per and pre­sen­ta­tion that he al­so is hav­ing us do. too bad the li­brary doesn’t have ei­ther film. wtf is that shit? so i wast­ed 40 min­utes walk­ing to and from the li­brary. i al­so have edit­ing to do the on­ly avail­able time in the edit­ing room is from 10pm-1am to­day, this is be­cause 6 oth­er in­ter­me­di­ate projects and 4 ad­vanced projects all have to use the same 4 steen­becks. 11 film projects + reg­u­lar classtime + partner’s sched­ule — Advanced class pri­or­i­ty /​ 4 Steenbecks = late night edit­ing for me. I just want my fuck­ing de­gree.