Beowulf

August 31, 2007


I’m not sure if I’m excited for this or not.

But I love Beowulf. And this could be a pretty cool movie. Could. It could also be a cheesy misrepresentation of the English language’s first true work of art.




(Sound is quiet. Turn up the sound a little to hear it better.)

And if it sucks? Well, I can turn away, back to the epic itself. To the Seamus Heaney translation, which is, to date, the best I’ve read.

I have no doubt that this:
Beowulf, the movie
Won’t hold a candle to this:
Beowulf, the book

But it’s worth hoping, isn’t it?

Tags: Books, Random YouTube, Literature, Movies |

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Welcome, fellow BMOWP!

August 30, 2007


Welcome to the web, fellow Black Marks on Wood Pulp!

It’s late, but I’ve just discovered it. It’s been in business since March. And I hold no ill feelings about the fact that this new blog stole my name. Because, after all, I stole my name from an author. An author I’ve never read. Who happened to have a great quote about writing.

So there you go. Another Black Marks on Wood Pulp is here, one written by a woman from a UK address who may or may not be Australian. Welcome.

Tags: Black Marks on Wood Pulp, Blogging |

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Board certified

August 30, 2007


It was just last year that I was attempting to push myself into the world of volunteerism, grasping at the reasons why I should just give up with the cold shoulder of indifference and warmly embrace a cause that I felt strongly about.

For me, it was the South Dakota Festival of Books. Later, it became, for the second year in a row, The Big Read – a program that encourages people from around South Dakota to read the same, classic book.

Just a month away is the fourth annual South Dakota Festival of Books. It’s in Deadwood this year, and I’ll be going to help out – to expand my volunteerism from the cozy radius of my home and into the rest of the state. I’ll be there doing God knows what, live blogging a little and celebrating the art of the book in all of its glory.

And I’ll be doing it in a new capacity. For I am no longer a simple volunteer; a man that can forget about the formal connections and casually return home unburdened by the South Dakota Festival of Books’ baggage. No, now I’m deeply connected, integrated into the DNA of the group, forever associated with everything that the South Dakota Humanities Council does.

Now I’m on the board.

Board membership. Complete with an announcement in the newsletter and official meetings. Responsibility, and all that comes with it. Kind of scary, actually.

Let’s be honest – this isn’t a monumental announcement. People are elected to boards every day. I’ve actually been on the SDHC board for about two or three months, though we haven’t formally done anything that I have been able to attend. I haven’t said anything because, well, it didn’t seem very real. Or important. Or noteworthy in any sense of the word.

But the more I think about it, the cooler it seems. This is it – my first board appointment, at a young age, with no formal training or experience. This is it – my first turn as part of a group’s voice, as a representative of a cause.

I won’t lie – I’m totally excited. I’d always felt a twinge of jealousy at other people I’ve known who have been board members. I’ve wondered, “Why them?” I contemplated on how I could find a cause I truly cared about or a group I could back, let alone how I could make it on to the decision making machine that helped run it.

The prospect is part daunting, part thrilling. Will I do a good job? Will I impress the people that took a chance in selecting me? Will I succeed in representing the group – a statewide organization that promotes not just literature, but art, culture, everything that is everything about the humanities in South Dakota?

Next month, I’ll find out. I’ll be in Deadwood, in an official capacity, leading writers around or introducing or whatever it is that we board members do. Maybe I’ll just be working the information desk. Regardless, it’s my first shot at making a difference statewide, on backing up my words with action, on promoting reading and literature and all of that throughout South Dakota.

You could say I’m board certified in literature, I guess. Now I just have to prove it.

Tags: Books, Writing, Vilhauer, Writers, Literature |

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Crushed into submission

August 29, 2007


Three days ago. A five game winning streak. Things were starting to look up.

Then, a clash with the first place Cleveland Indians. Win the series, gain at least a game in the hunt for the playoffs. Sweep the series, gain three games, a rush of confidence, and narrowly dodge the proverbial nail in the coffin that’s been haunting the Twins these past few weeks.

They could dodge no longer, it seemed. A loss Monday. And Tuesday. And finally again tonight.

A sweep.
Another loss for Santana. 0-4 against Cleveland this year.
A slowly shrinking deficit in the standings turned into a massive deficit of 8.5 games. And a 7 game deficit in the Wild Card race.
Hopes, dashed.

If this wasn’t the nail, it’s at least been marked and placed, ready for the hammer to swing down upon its season ending head.

They’re not technically eliminated, no. But a sweep like this does wonders in advancing a hang dog attitude. The Twins didn’t just need these wins for the standings - they needed them for their psyche, for their confidence, for something to rally around, a final push toward the playoffs with a whoop and a cry and a stomping of midwestern, small market feet.

The Twins are 67-66. There’s still a month of baseball left. And last year showed that even a team barely over .500 could win the World Series with a little bit of luck, a strong set of pairings and a hot streak near the end of the season.

Of course, you have to make the playoffs first. And with these crushing losses, I’m not sure the Twins have the heart left in them to even try.

Tags: Sports, Baseball, Minnesota Twins |

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Always looking up

August 28, 2007


This morning, as I left the house, I looked up to see an airplane heading straight south. I couldn’t help but stare.

From the ground, it seems so logic defying – a large steel craft rising further and further in the air, a plume of white trailing behind it, as if the airplane wasn’t really a passenger-filled vessel but actually a mythical rocket, being sent into space in some futuristic science fiction novel.

Yeah, I know. It’s an airplane. The technology has been around for years – centuries, really – and there are plenty of laws and theories in the field of physics that can explain why large lumps of metal can glide on air.

But even knowing these things, the sight never ceases to amaze me.

More than this scientific wonder, I usually wonder where these planes are going.

I always feel a rush when I enter an airport. I become pleasantly anxious, and once I’m belted in, the anxiety turns into full out excitement. I know that, in mere hours, I will be somewhere else. Somewhere completely different.

What used to take months, now takes hours. I love that. Through hundreds of connecting airports, the world has been shrunk to a once impossible size.

So when a plane flies overhead – when the sonic reverberations reach my ears and I find myself instinctively looking up – I imagine where the passengers are going. I think of my place here, on solid ground, and then think of their place, up there, flying, headed somewhere different, and I consider the difference between us – several thousand feet, completely different destinations, all feeling the rush of travel, either directly or vicariously.

For a few seconds, I travel with them. Then I look back down to earth and continue on with my day.

Tags: Travel |

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