Film Theory midterm

i’ve a Film The­o­ry midterm today.

last night was spent wrestling with con­cepts of the ontolo­gies of cin­e­ma, sovi­et mon­tage, the­o­ries and require­ments for cin­e­mat­ic Real­ism, ques­tions of auteur­ship and genre and a lit­tle bit of semi­otic icing to top it off. cur­rent­ly i’ve some­thing akin to Wal­ter Benjamin’s Marx­ist ideas of base/superstructure (in re: to the aura of mechan­i­cal­ly repro­duced objects like film) brew­ing with Rick Altman’s semantic/syntactic approach to film stud­ies and Chris­t­ian Metz’s idea of deno­ta­tive and con­no­ta­tive impli­ca­tions of film form. i won­der what is going to per­co­late?

in the mean­time go amuse your­self at Bit­ter Films with Tem­po­rary Anes­thet­ics.

Horn Toot

i don’t like to toot my own horn but jmay request­ed what the class thought of my lat­est. here are some of their com­ments:

  • cool chess imagery — this is quite an accom­plish­ment. jug­gler. jug­gler…
  • once again, your depth of his­tor­i­cal or the­mat­ic knowl­edge here is applied and over my head, but in this case it doesn’t take away from the grasp on the poem. i real­ly can’t say any­thing about this poem neg­a­tive­ly.
  • great imagery, also great use of enjamb­ment… very nice use of words, esp. descrip­tive verbs & adjec­tives.
  • all around great lan­guage, crisp spe­cif­ic word choice.
  • your use of meter is…well done and keeps the poem mov­ing for­ward.
  • works very well in son­net form.
  • i real­ly like the way chess becomes a metaphor for pol­i­tics or the chess­board comes alive and the pieces become sen­tient.

Score!

From the Tao

from the Tao Te Ching (50):

A per­son comes forth to life and enters into death.
Three out of ten are part­ners of life,
Three out of ten are part­ners of death,
And the peo­ple whose every move­ment leads them to the
land of death because they cling to life
Are also three out of ten.

Now,
What is the rea­son for this?
It is because they cling to life.

Indeed,
I have heard that
One who is good at pre­serv­ing life
does not avoid tigers and rhi­noc­er­os­es
when he walks in the hills;
nor does he put on armor and take up weapons
when he enters a bat­tle.
The rhi­noc­er­os has no place to jab its horn,
The tiger has no place to fas­ten its claws,
Weapons have no place to admit their blades.

Now,
What is the rea­son for this?
Because on him there are no mor­tal spots.

Regular Season End

my reg­u­lar sea­son is over. i was 4–1 on the week­end, and final­ly got my act togeth­er. the men’s squad is now 82–0 over three years of fenc­ing. and my time fenc­ing as a part of the team is almost up. the dri­ve back from East Lans­ing was quite an expe­ri­ence. the weath­er was awful. snow snow snow. a bunch of the team went out drink­ing. i would have liked to join them but as always, i’m flatass broke. today i will look for a job and try to write a poem in iambic pen­tame­ter. writ­ing with accent and meter is much hard­er than writ­ing nor­mal­ly.

Dating Race

i often think that i am too far behind in the dat­ing game to ever make a good play of it. res­ig­na­tion fills the air like stale gym socks fill the lock­er room with that stale gym sock smell. (hor­rid sim­i­le inten­tion­al). i’ve still no idea what i’m doing. pret­ty much ever. every­thing gets recy­cled, mas­ti­cat­ed over and over until this gru­el that is bewil­der­ment serves up anoth­er help­ing of ‘what­ev­er­ness.’ i’m at least com­pe­tent with every oth­er aspect of my life, and since my life is already one-third fin­ished and set­tling down for the long haul, why rock the dream-boat by attempt­ing to force my nerdi­li­cious pre-ado­les­cent knowl­edge of rela­tion­ships into a sem­blance of matu­ri­ty? i’m already too far behind the pack to catch up to the strag­glers. how many peo­ple do i know who are get­ting mar­ried? a lot. how much con­fi­dence do i have? { }. The Null Set. what would con­fi­dence get me? per­haps a date in which i would have the chance to parade my igno­rance in front of some­one rel­a­tive­ly close to my age with a quite healthy sex life and a work­ing knowl­edge of ‘how this thing is done.’ its like that dream when you are naked at school and its real­ly cold out so ‘your boys’ are all shriv­eled and every­one laughs at you because you are naked at school and have a minis­cule penis. except its not real­ly like that. because that is a dream. and this is real.

Dies Irae [rethought]

With the slight­est touch,
a sleep­ing drag­on awakes.
Odin’s ravens, Thought

and Mem­o­ry,
croak.
They eat mush­room clouds for lunch,

dark rain for din­ner.

Gorged after this meal,
they hear What
the Thun­der Says:
‘All the world has aged.’

Immo­lat­ed in

Inex­tin­guish­able Fire,

Megid­do is qui­et.

Two men lay like sleep,
bow­ing to once fer­tile ground.
Inter­rupt­ed by

a child with­out eyes,
Win­ter set­tles on a land
too burnt for lilies.

not very many got this in class, so i thought i’d bet­ter put some explana­to­ry links here.

Clone High

MTV actu­al­ly has a good new show for once. It is called Clone High. The premise, famous dead peo­ple were cloned years ago and the clones are now all in high-school. appar­ent­ly they are sup­pos­ed­ly being trained into a clone army, but that isn’t real­ly hap­pen­ing. for­get the nature/nurture argu­ment. the clones act like their pre­de­ces­sors to the extent that they want to. There’s Abe Lin­coln, the gan­g­ly indie rock guy who reminds me of me. He wants Cleopa­tra a manip­u­la­tive and sexy as hell pop­u­lar girl who hap­pens to date JFK, the school bul­ly and cap­tain of the foot­ball team. Abe is friends with Gand­hi, who is com­ic relief and a stereo­typ­i­cal crazy per­son, and Joan of Arc an angstrid­den goth chick who is des­per­ate­ly in love with Abe. Oth­er char­ac­ters include, the idiot Genghis Khan and the latin thug Jesus Cristo. I’ve laughed my socks off at every episode. check it out, on Mon­day nights 10:30 EST.

this review has been a paid adver­tise­ment of MTV, LLC., CO., INC. void where pro­hib­it­ed.