The New England Yankees

January 21st, 2008

Super Bowl XLIIFor nine months out of the year, the number one story on the sports landscape seems to be New York Yankees versus Boston Red Sox. Both teams could be a complete non-story and they’d still make the first fifteen minutes of ESPN coverage. It’s a tired rivalry – one that surely has legendary history but lately feels like a distracting media whore; like a high school homecoming queen at her first college kegger, important because of who she was, not where she is now.

So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m callous to this year’s Super Bowl. The roles are reversed, but it’s still the same story. New York vs. Boston. New York as scrappy underdog, Boston as steamrolling Goliath.

Does that mean Brady is the game’s Jeter? Who is Manning?

* sigh * Let the hyperbole begin.

(And, let’s see how long it takes the No Fun League to notice my image and order me to remove it.)


Leave A Comment

Issues Considered: Baseball, Football, Sports

Read a book!

January 18th, 2008

A CRUNK message about reading books (and other things).
(This is NSFW – lots of swearing)

Hilarious.


Leave A Comment

Issues Considered: Books, Videos

…prying

January 17th, 2008

Before I had ever thought about writing as a career, it was a hobby. It was a way for me to pour out the feelings I had built up over 18 years of life as a privileged nancy. I thought I had known pain, but I hadn’t. I was over-emotional, self-centered and attention deprived.

I turned that into some painful introspective writing. Some “woe is me” prattle that I threw together haphazardly into a web page. That web page was called “…prying.” And for a year or so, it was everything I could be.

That’s how I look at it now, at least. I can cast a wary eye, afraid of what I was: unstable, longing and sad. I had just discovered freedom – my first few years at college – but I hadn’t yet reconciled what I had left. I wrote because it was a release, and when I moved to St. Cloud to go to school with Kerrie, I stopped. I had no need to feel sorry about myself – I was with who I wanted to be with.

Without knowing it, I had started my first blog – a personal journal, organized by date – long before blogs were even fathomed by the masses. It’s Black Marks on Wood Pulp version 1.0, a lost set of writings that, amazingly, were actually pretty good.

The front page is all that remains – it can be viewed through the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine: …prying. I don’t think I ever backed any of it up. The Internet Archive certainly didn’t go any deeper than the home page, and even then didn’t save the picture of my dilapidated, non-running Volkswagen Beetle that adorned it. But here, saved for eternity (or, at least, until the Archive deletes it), is my first attempt at writing for the public.

I had printed some of it into a orange-covered zine that was handed out at All Ages shows for free, complete with cover art by my friend Eric. I’ve just paged through that zine again and rediscovered what …prying was.

It was misplaced anger. It was a sadness buried under vague poetics. It was tortured, like a faux-horror movie. It’s sometimes embarrassing. But it was real. It was what I was thinking – and who I desperately wanted to be (though I didn’t even realize it): a writer who could move people – to tears, to action.

More than anything, it was beginning.


Comments: 1

Issues Considered: Blogging, Meta, Vilhauer, Writing

A film study

January 17th, 2008

Oscar PosterI came to Star Wars late in life.

I know my parents watched them, and I was in the room. I vaguely remembered scenes and I knew the oft-quoted lines. I understood that one move had furry things in it and another movie had a giant explosion. But my knowledge ended there.

So in high school, during the great Remastering, I embraced the movies. They were re-released to theatres, and I had the joy of watching each movie for the first time, again. The Phantom Menace was released shortly after. I understood the draw.

At least, I did for a while. To me, Star Wars was an indulgence best enjoyed warm. As time cooled the series, I cooled to its allure. I found holes in the logic and grew tired of the fans. I enjoyed each Star Wars movie the first time around, which is more than I can say for a lot of movies, but haven’t felt the need to revisit them aside from an attack of nostalgia.

The Academy Awards – yes, the entire batch of them – feel the same way, apparently. AdFreak points out the fact that, aside from Star Wars (which was a technological marvel at the time of its release) the series has come up rather empty at the Oscars. Naturally, no one is going to nominate Hayden Christensen for an Academy Award, but you’d think they’d have more going in the costume/CG/box-office-earnings-to-logical-dialogue-ratio departments, wouldn’t you?

As if Oscar night felt a little sorry for the sci-fi classic, they tipped their hat to the Star Wars series through this year’s Oscar Awards Promotional Poster – designed by Drew Struzan, the very man who designed all of those sweet Star Wars posters.

(Whoa, whoa – wait a minute here. Corey, why the hell are you talking about Star Wars? Have you gone mad? What is this? I demand an explanation!)

Okay, okay. No. I haven’t gone mad. It’s just that, well, the Oscars are coming up in a month and a half, and I always seem to feel a surge of excitement over the awards ceremony.

Which is odd, since I watch about six new movies a year.

I’ve never been a movie junkie. My brain isn’t wired for them, I guess. I’m thrilled by movie adaptations and new trailers and high-buzz releases, but I never go to see them. I live my life watching movies through trailers, never making time to fill in the details.

Here’s the psychoanalytic reasoning, I figure. I break media down into four subcategories – reading (books, magazines, blogs), listening (radio, music), watching (television, movies, music videos) and doing (video and computer games). On my hierarchy of media needs, they fall in that order – I’ll read a book before I’ll listen to a CD, I’ll do both before watching a movie. Television is an anomaly – it’s the most passive of the media types and therefore accessible at a level the others aren’t.

What I’m saying is that I don’t watch movies. Yet, here’s the kicker: I get really excited about them and form ridiculous opinions about them and long to watch every great movie that’s released and get into arguments about them. And, I tune in to the Oscars each year to root for the best movie I haven’t seen. That’s dumb. But that’s me.

This year, it’ll be different. I’m taking an active interest in movies. And so can you.

As I’ve done in the past with songs and authors, I’ll be collecting the best opinions from my favorite readers, friends and contemporaries. It will begin and end with an epic (to me, at least) list of films – the 25 Films That Have Shaped My Life. Not merely my favorites, but the most important – the movies I have felt an affinity toward, the movies I’ve actually purchased and watched more than once.

To you, I look for inspiration. Consider this the Call for Entries to this year’s Grand Movie List. Send me any list, if you’d like. The more, the merrier. They’ll be posted during the week leading up to the Oscars.

Until then, I’ll be honing up my movie knowledge. After all, I’ve got a lot of trailers to watch between now and February 24th.


Comments: 5

Issues Considered: Movies, The Top...

Planet survival

January 16th, 2008

Planet EarthOver the past two months of cable viewing, I’ve found myself drawn to re-runs of Planet Earth, The Discovery Channel’s premier nature documentary mini-series, adapted from the BBC.

It’s quite an amazing series – the stats alone are mind-boggling: 62 countries, 204 locations, five years of filming. Several species and events had never been captured before on film, giving the series an exclusivity that most documentaries lack. Variety is key. Nearly every extreme, every nook, every cranny is explored.

I had my beefs when the series started. For all of its “firsts,” Planet Earth makes no secret of its accomplishments. I like knowing what it took to get the images, but an inordinate amount of emphasis is placed on letting the audience know just how amazing the footage is, serving more as a documentary on fantastic camera angles and less on fantastic animals. (Thankfully, after the initial episode, the self-congratulating dies down.)

What I’ve learned isn’t new. It’s eye opening and it’s beautiful, but it’s not new. I know that there are hundreds of thousands of species in the world – and thousands more that have never been discovered – but seeing them in such colorful beauty is sobering. And seeing them in such numbers is humbling. We’re talking thousands of hoof-bearing mammals, screaming through the dirt, creating a windstorm-sized cloud of animal energy. It’s all you can do to keep from ducking.

Earth is huge. There’s no doubt of that. Planet Earth seem to capture every moment – from birth to death, what can seem like an equally huge span of time and an immense span of emotions. This dynamic look at life and death is what makes Planet Earth so amazing. The inevitability of death and the fight for survival. The ultimate prize is living another season, surviving another hunt, giving birth and passing life onto another generation.

The most powerful images are utterly heartbreaking. Offspring torn from mothers by predators. Lost to the elements. The aged struggling to survive a trip they had made 30 years in a row. The decision of a parent as to which child she can afford to keep alive.

As humans, I sometimes think we take this for granted – we’ve created our own safety nets and don’t succumb to the natural elements that these animals experience. We’ve integrated automatic survival techniques directly into our lives through technology, medicine and law – things animals cannot conceptualize.

That’s one reason we’ve evolved the need for society and infrastructure – if anything, our best weapon against death and our biggest ally in survival is our mind. For a bear, it’s a powerful forearm strike. For a bird, it’s colorful plumage and fast reflexes. For every animal, it’s different, and the complex piece that each species creates fits perfectly with its prey. Predator, hunted, symbiotic – words that no longer just play roles in a science textbook, but serve as the glue between each animal’s struggle for survival.

The imagery is amazing. Every episode, I find myself filled with awe at yet another niche of Earth’s makeup that I had never realized. And I find myself thinking about the reasons I first wanted to study science, to be a science educator, to read nature books and travel to exotic locations. I’m out of the business, but the pull still remains.

We don’t know real beauty until we’re shown the wonders of nature. It sounds like a hippie dream, but it’s true. Nothing matches the complexity of biology. Nothing matches the power of survival. Nothing matches the beauty of a rare species, surviving only because time forgot.

It’s an amazing planet we live on, that’s for sure.


Leave A Comment

Issues Considered: Television

16-Page Read: Knuffle Bunny

January 13th, 2008

Knuffle Bunny By Mo Willems
Knuffle BunnyWhen we’re young, we’re drawn to one item. One physical piece of matter that keeps us secure. Safe. Comfortable.

For me, it was a Scooby Doo stuffed animal. My parents had spent hell-knows-how-much in securing it during a vacation to King’s Island in Kentucky. It was three feet tall – a life size representation. The carny laughed all the way home, I’m sure. And it was my favorite toy.

I was concerned with every detail of that dog’s existence. I made him my confidant, my best friend. I wore the color off of his collar and pilled up his black spots. Without Scooby, I couldn’t survive. Or so it seemed.

Now, imagine grade school – Irving Elementary. Show and tell day. I brought Scooby Doo to school to show off. He was hard to carry around all day, but when the time came, he was a hit.

In the middle of show and tell, the principal came in and told us to evacuate the building. A gas leak had been suspected, and we were shuffled out onto the playground for an extended recess. It was a glorious day – sunny, warm and free; a day for playing and waiting, two things a grade school child knows best.

But Scooby was still inside.

I freaked out.

I was smart enough to know better. But I had a strange connection with that stuffed animal, and I was worried about what was happening to it. “Gas leak” sounded ominous – like some disfiguring fog that could eat flesh and cause radioactive-like mutations. I imagined my stuffed animal being taken away from me – burned like the Velveteen Rabbit, lost forever. I cried. I couldn’t stop. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn’t help the feeling of helplessness. Over a stuffed animal!

It was a long day at Kindergarten, for both me and my teacher.

That’s why Mo Willems is brilliant. Knuffle Bunny is the story of every child who lost a stuffed animal. And it’s the story of every parent who had to both console and search, simultaneously, as their child’s world came crashing down around them. He makes it all real, because he’s been in the same place. You know he has – he has the parts down pat. Probably on both sides of the coin.

What makes Knuffle Bunny so compelling – so re-readable – is the details. The looks. The images of real New York layered with a scruffy post-yuppie parenthood. A walk to the Laundromat seems so luxurious, a front stoop so spacious. It’s life in a big city with a children’s story filling in the holes, with the freedom of life strewn across every page.

It’s also a classic story of child/adult miscommunication. Trixie’s father assumes Trixie is babbling, not freaking out over a lost stuffed animal. And Trixie’s attempts at clarification fall on deaf ears – that is, until mother saves the day.

This will be me, I’m sure – a father saving the day from his own mistake; a daughter so preoccupied with life that she nearly forgets the one thing her life revolves around. I look forward to it, actually – those hero moments of sheer normalcy, the stories we can share later on.

When I was in the situation, though, it wasn’t a fun story. And I relate with Knuffle Bunny on that level. I was there. We all were. That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it irresistible. Because each one of us wanted only one thing that day.

We wanted that security back. And it took a hero to get it back – even though we didn’t realize at the time how mundane that hero’s act was.


Comments: 2

Issues Considered: 16-Page Read, Books

The Week at Misc. Asst. – 1.13.08

January 13th, 2008

Another week. Another batch.

1/5
Inaccurate Vernacular: Juno” – John
- A review of what could be a sleeper Oscar winner – Michael Cera playing the part he does best…awkward teenage boy.

1/10
Much Ado” – Dave
- Dave’s first rant? Those ugly bug-eyed glasses that people are wearing these days. Damned kids!


Leave A Comment

Issues Considered: Blogging, Misc. Asst.