April 2004 Archives

Some of the shorter ones - since you expressed such unbridled enthusiasm:
Typee

- a morsel of which placed on the tongue melts like a soft smile from the lips of Beauty. (189) - This strange superstition affords another evidence of the fact, that however ignorant man may be, he still feels within him his immortal spirit yearning after the unknown future. (205) - It is strange how inanimate objects will twine themselves into our affections, especially in the hour of affliction. (282)

Omoo

...she gave loose to strange, hollow little notes of laughter, that sounded like the bass of a music-box, playing a lively air with the top down. (458)

Mardi

- His library was eight inches by four: Bowditch, and Hamilton Moore.(665) - In a plurality of comrades is much countenance and consolation. (769) - But what knows a philosopher about women? (775)

Half the fun of reading Melville's works for me is diving into the murky references throughout. In reading The Library of America Melville - Typee, Omoo, Mardi for the past two months there have been waves of obscurity as frequent as the tides. A collection of these follows:

Typee

• Tenier's Saints (246) David Tenier the Younger - artist
• Dibdin: "There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To look out for the life of poor Jack." (252)

Omoo

• Urim and Thummim (358): Urim is derived from the Hebrew for "light", or "to give light", and Thummim from "completeness", "perfection", or "innocence".


• Clarence in the butt of Malmsey (368) The creature certainly died a luscious death, quite equal to Clarence's in the butt of Malmsey.


• Rule of Three (389)


• Alexander Pope's "Epistle to A Lady"


• Rizzio

Mardi

• Whistonian theory concerning the damned and the comets: Whiston fancied that the earth was created from the atmosphere of one comet, and that it was deluged by the tail of another. The heat which remained from its first origin, in his opinion, excited the whole antediluvian population, men and animals, to sin, for which they were all drowned in the deluge, excepting the fish, whose passions were apparently less violent.


• Sesotris


• Thermopylae


• Tartarus: Tartarus is the lowest region of the world, as far below earth as earth is from heaven.


• Epaminondas


• Belshazzar


• Belisarius


• Hafiz


• Paracelsus


• Chimborazo

There have also been several eloquent quotes or passages I've jotted down. Those will be up tomorrow.

Some further notes to the last post. Kara pointed out that the content of the movie very much resembled the way our memories work. Something I guess I sorta but didn't really alude to in my original entry. Thinking back on it now, it is quite apparent. Put yourself in a dark room with only your thoughts to entertain you and then think about mapping those out -- the connections you make and what not. The thought now reminds me of sitting in an apartment in New York watching my love interest work away at her life map (she was plotting certain events in her life visually with no verbal input, into her Mac) -- which when assembled on the white screen manifested itself as a truly insane series of black lines with certain circular points marked out - each seemingly going back to the other and careening across said screen with no real destination. It was, nearing its end I assume - simply progressing to become a big black spot.

Which leads you to that moment when Carrey's character asks if there is any risk of brain damage. The doctor plainly states that the procedure is technically brain damage - and hence the course of the movie.

Tonight I realized that I neglected to mention that while I went in all hardcore over Kirsten Dunst's bouncy wouncy seen - by the end of the movie she had been Lacuna'd from my mind and I was left with a voracious appetite for Kate Winslett's character.

We also discussed the neck slit scene - which I'd be interested in hearing further opinions on - as the summary tonight opened my eyes to a different experience.

My point -- though the conversation was less than five minutes in duration - it was extremely informative. These are becoming fewer and far between - but it was a nice boost to exchange thoughts with someone - and gain fresh perspective.

As I mentioned before, last Friday Kristen and I snuck out of our respective caves and headed to the local movie theater. Needless to say the theater parking lot was jam packed with many eager bodies keen to see the latest installment in the Kill Bill series. We being of a different persuasion had selected Charlie Kaufman's latest installment - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. She'd been wanting to see it for some time since hearing rave reviews from her sister G out in Colorado. She valiantly put it off to appease my desire to see Touching the Void a week or two prior, at which we were treated to a trailer of Spotless that featured a scantily clad Kirsten Dunst bouncing around on a bed. All bouncy-wouncy. Mmmmm.

Well, following that display I was all gung-ho about seeing the movie as well. In the coming days I would read up on it and find out that it was from the same hands that molded Adaptation and Being John Malkovich, which only served to reinforce my inclinations. I'm an admirer of both of these films, and wouldn't mind popping a squat in front of a friend's big screen for encore performances. That said, there is something intrinsic to these works that comes out once again in Spotless.

G and Kristen both found the movie "sad." I agreed, but the sadness I felt managed to consume itself, disappearing underneath the protective petals of some other sort of feeling. It was akin to moments in Lost in Translation, where the beauty of having any emotion is magnified in the emptiness that emanates from the screen. Or perhaps the screen is simply sucking me dry in these instances - reaching inside to pull out what I was certain was singular to me. Slate's David Edelstein puts it succintly when he says:

Ah yes. The absurdist galaxy. Of course when I look at the word "absurd" I immediately think of Camus. Confronted by one's own mortality, having no notion of the end's meaning -- all that jazz. So Edelstein's comment - about emotional truth - actually annihilates itself in my interpretation. Emotional truth? What can that possibly mean? Just ponder that question for a bit and enjoy the existential moment.

That's what you need to do with Sunshine as well. Perhaps, at least in my secondary interpretation, Edelstein simply means that the raw emotional power of the movie breaks the boundaries of its form - especially during the first sitting.

At the very start of the movie I was a little worried that the hand-held camera work was gonna be an extremely disturbing aspect of the film. I had to let myself go - cozy back into the theater seat and release all criticism from my mind. I was out. I was going to enjoy a movie. I didn't have to wait long before the hand-held seemed to phase out and I was in the midst of a tightly woven tale. Letting myself go - as the scenes began following one another - I actually found myself relating to Jim Carrey's character. That was probably the biggest surprise of the night - as normally I can't stand Carrey (except when he starred next to Matthew Broderick in the extremely underrated dark comedy Cable Guy). I suggest you turn to a great review by Ryan Ellis, who writes:

He goes on to mention how Kaufman must be a hopeless romantic. Unfortunately, so am I. Thankfully that is what allowed me to love the raw emotional truths that shot forth from the silver screen.

I told Moms I would write this because she said she didn't understand the movie - but I don't think I want to give away how the film works within its frame. I think that the ultimate beauty of it is that it escapes the frame - or at least it does so in your heart - and not your mind.

I won't pretend to have written a solid "review" here. I'd call it more of an impact analysis. It's been a week since I saw the movie, so some of that impact may have slid off the teflon -- but if you've read this far, you already know of two reviews that take the cake. I can only urge you to see it for yourself - with an open heart - ready for the piercing.

I wanna disappear.

The good news is I can now lie back in my bed, my little toshiba nestled up next to me and send out little words and phrases to you.

The bad news is that working your way through the eye of the attic, making sure to step on the proper support beams in order to reach coordinate A and then track back to coordinate B - that whole schpiel is an excercise in muscles you never use during the regular course of your life. (It kinda feels like the aftermath of spelunking.)

But here I am, leaning back against my pillows typing out nonsense in the early morning hours. It's almost like wireless - if you ignore the searing pain in your recently awakened leg muscles.

Moms sent me an email saying she don't understand Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Moms. I can't say that my "review" tomorrow will explain any of it - but I'm hoping my words will explain what I got out of it. It's taking me long enough to figure out how to write it.

Requested Wayne State University's MLS program info today from the Admissions office. Currently have three RSS feeds spitting out job positions that all seem to want me to be more experienced.

Will be out of money midway through May.

Audioscrobbling. Job hunting. Catching myself cracking more and more Dad jokes. Thanks to see-store for calling and checking up on me. The freak out has only just begun to take root.

Tomorrow I will participate in the MS Walk -- two years running. Last year we were Team Horkheimer. Now they shall recognize the fury of Team Fat Elvis. But tonight I am going to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with Kristen. I'll let you know if it was better than George's version.

Man. I'm starving.

I thought I kept myself pretty well informed, but until tonight I can't say that I recall ever having heard the name John O'Neill. I just finished watching Frontline's The Man Who Knew, and I'm curious to find out why the name hasn't been coming to the surface more often. There's been discussion in the 9/11 commission, but nothing the press seems to be picking up on in great detail. Originally aired on October 3, 2002, I only caught the last twenty minutes - but Frontline shows are archived on the web, and this one runs an extra thirty minutes. Maybe I'll lounge around the ole laptop tomorrow and hope for a decent dial-up connection.

5:15 Suckerfish totally not happening...abandoning.

Working on those suckerfish dropdown menus today. You should know that the backend pages haven't been restyled yet -- so if you plan on clicking any of those links -- don't be shocked by the nasty nasty.

Speaking of nasty - I mailed my Uncle George his earnings from the political wager we had concerning Dean today. Don't spend it all in one place, Unka.

You know, I thought it would be interesting to relate my recent struggles with my revamping to a phrase made popular by a certain sci-fi movie...

Real original Kevin. You're soooo avant-garde.

btw - If there are any browsers out there not rendering my intentions - please be so kind as to drop me a line.

While scrounging through the internet for information on why I wasn't able to get this or that to display, sorting through innumerable pages of IE hacks - I came across one page with a little bit of advice: (somewhat)The last thing you want to do is allow your readers to see an unfinished design.

Sorry.

I'm trying to pick up the pace - but I'm really distracted with all of the nothing that surrounds me. Last night got really bad. I was swimming in a torrential downpour of worry - the sheets became waves of guilt - wrapping round me, pulling me under.

But other than that - I'm super-fantastic.

Anyways -- hopefully I'll have this baby fine tuned by Friday. Three projects: Suckerfish dropdowns, custom underlines and custom bulletpoints. From there it's just a matter of shaving and shading elements. Much love to the people.

Dee Da

Gonna be bringing it back this week. Just gonna have to throw up the design around the verbosity as it happens - cause I'm starting to suffer from withdrawal.