E. E. Cummings on Winter

Saturday, 30 November 2002

ladies and gen­teel men, i give you…winter!



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

:alight whitely and.

flakes:are;guests;of t



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

its snow­ing!


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.