Jane Jane Jane

Whether or not you read Jane Austen, this blog post provides an excellent analysis of what has happened to not only the modern novel, but most especially the plight of the modern novel once it reaches "public domain" status. He also makes a point about how Austen's novels (like Pride and Prejudice) have been turned into brands and are enjoyed for the brand status, rather than as an enjoyable story that is written exceedingly well.

But with the possible exception of the New Testament, no other seminal text has been so greedily trawled for evidence of the reader’s own transcendent superiority. Pride and Prejudice is the kind of book certain people make a point of visibly carrying with them in public, exhibiting it like a designer label. Or a weapon.

Seriously, I couldn't have said it better myself. Go read the post. The first half is the analysis, the second half is a summary/commentary on P&P itself.

Bingley bravely urges him on, pointing out that Elizabeth Bennet is both very pretty and at present without a partner. Darcy looks over to where Lizzy is seated, and either not knowing or not caring that she can easily overhear him, declares:

“She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

So here’s my message of good will to all those aggrieved single women, smoldering with affronted self-esteem, who go angrily about their lives carrying tote bags that read AN ELIZABETH IN A DARCY-LESS WORLD: Ladies, I can help you! I know for a fact that there are very, very many men who would be only too happy to step reluctantly into your life, offend all your friends en masse, and then insult you in particular. You just say the word, I’ll have a whole rugby team of Darcys at your doorstep.

But then, I’m willing to bet these women meet such men all the time. And I’m guessing that they, like Lizzy, don’t recognize a potential Great Romantic Hero in any of them; or maybe they do, and that’s the point. They don’t want a potential romantic hero; they want one who’s already fully fitted out and ready to drive off the showroom floor. God forbid they should have to do any of the body work themselves. Or that, like Lizzy, they’d have to recognize some of their own failings into the bargain. What, are you fuggin’ kidding me…?

BWAHAHAHAA!! THANK YOU!! Seriously, those types of girls are just as bad, if not worse, then the girls who are obsessed with Twilight and think that is quality literature.

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. Merry Christmas, prepare to die.

I've been noticing lately that I'm not posting all that often. So I've decided that this blog will now be the official place where I post the random shit I find on the internet. With the occasional existential poetry. Yes, this is a good plan.

And even though New Year's is still a week a way, people are already finding ways to say goodbye to the decade. One of which includes 40 Things That Were Popular at the Beginning of the Decade That Aren't Popular Anymore. It's quite funny. Go check it out. I think my favorite part is that things people were afraid of, like Anthrax and SARS, are on the list. Who even remembers if anything ever came of it? These two potential "epidemics" were sort of the reason why I didn't get a swine flu shot or a regular flu shot this year. I choose to defy mass hysteria.

And to comment on the title of this post, this is a new fun joke for Darren and I. Take the infamous phrase from the movie, replace "you killed my father" with another happier statement and voila. The best way to confuse friends. Or at least get a laugh. Or maybe just a one shoulder shake chuckle.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Funnyhouse of a Negro

The last play of this semester's CalArts season is Funnyhouse of a Negro by Adrienne Kennedy.

When I first read the play, I didn't get it. But seeing it...it reminds me why we do theatre. This performance that I experience tonight was so good (SO GOOD) that I feel completely speechless. I was on the verge of tears during their curtain call.

Design, direction, and acting were all cohesive and spectacular. The story (or lack of story) hits you hard in the gut and makes you think.

This is why I do theatre.

good night, and good luck

I sit alone in a dimly lit room typing away at the nothingness of the internet. I say nothingness because despite the hours and hours we devote to it, it gives nothing in return. We may feel like we're a community on these various social networking sites, but it's mostly a facade of timewasting. At least that's how I've felt over the past few months where my own personal internet exchanges have felt severely lacking in some way.

I heard a quote one Sunday at Cornerstone Church. Francis Chan said it, but he said someone else had said it originally, but I don't remember who that someone was supposed to be. Nevertheless it goes something like this: If nothing else, facebook proves that lack of prayer is not for lack of time.
Begging your pardon, but that was severely paraphrased. I know I wrote it down somewhere, but I can't seem to find it.

I suppose I could say that it is for lack of time that I have not updated this blog or my other one. I was quite busy with assisting on Hellzapoppin, the mainstage show at CalArts this fine fall semester. It would appear that it was when I received a break and finally allowed myself a moment to relax that the illness I have felt lingering in my body for the past month decided to spring up. Headache, sniffles, slight sore throat. It's only the beginnings, but I still have hopes that I might be able to beat it away with a big stick.

Hellzapoppin. An entertaining show that lacked coherency and tried to do to many things at once. I wished to feel that communal sense you get when you work on a show and get to know the actors and such, but since I was assistant and not designer, that didn't really happen the way in which I wished it to. I suppose the stress of trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing in my costume classes too would effect that. The designs I'm producing are not the designs I usually produce. I'm bored with the historicity of the class. My designs lack character. I am not investing myself in them as much as I should and this might have something to do with the high turn over rate of each project.

Suffice it to say that going to grad school is tough (not that I expected it to be easy). I think I expected it to be tough in a different way. Which way, I'm not sure. Sometimes I feel like the other people here are really just pretentious bastards hiding behind a facade of intellectualism and critique. But there are many who are not pretentious bastards and those are the ones I befriend more often.

And now I will change the subject and talk about Darren.

This is Darren:
Darren is my boyfriend.

Darren and I met online. The first thing he messaged me about was how Han Solo is a "witty gunslinger archetype." We've been going out for about a month now. I like him, he adores me, so it all works out. So....yeah. Don't really know what else to say about him.

Guess that's it for the life update. Until I have more to post to this silly thing: good night, and good luck.

Oh, and happy thanksgiving.

when the heart hurts

Ruth
Emerson
Tyler
Elizabeth
Diana
Rachel
Bethany
Jessica


My life feels a little less without these dear ones in my daily life.
Yet I have life bursting in other ways.
I suppose I shouldn't complain, but I want them here with me as I attempt this journey through unknown waters...

to help stifle this feeling
(even if it's just for a little while)


that I really am alone.

I think too much.


Okay, maybe only just sometimes.



Because other times,







I don't think at all.

playful things

Today I feel like sharing with you a bit of fiction. This is a new scene from Love Me Dead.
-----------------------------------

PHOEBE
Very nice. What’s that there?

JAMES
Please go away.

PHOEBE
Nope. It looks like a -

She looks/motions suggestively at James.

JAMES
Will you get your mind out of the gutter?

PHOEBE
It’s not me, it’s your drawing. Roxy's going to hate it. (pause) What? You don’t believe me? Ask her yourself...

Phoebe wanders away, but not far. Roxy’s head appears above the chalkboard, a spotlight makes her look like a floating talking head.

JAMES
Roxy?

ROXY
Yes?

JAMES
Roxy, do you love me?

ROXY
It’s like the Beatles, James. All you need...is a formula.

JAMES
What?

ROXY
People don’t fall in love with people. They have a chemical reaction: one person’s pheromones responding to another’s. It has absolutely nothing to do with “cute” or “nice” or “pretty” or “sense of humor” or -

JAMES
(interjecting) Okay! I get it!

ROXY
- or “nice smile” or “kind” or “good with kids.” or “tight butt.”

JAMES
I GET IT!

ROXY
As you psychologically build someone up as a romantic interest, your brain releases addictive chemicals into your body, like dopamine and oxytocin, when in said desired person’s presence. We often mistake this for emotions of happiness.

JAMES
Always the romantic, you are.

ROXY
Side effects often include mood swings, dizziness, loss of appetite, increased heart rate, sweating, nausea, insomnia, and increased bloodflow to the genitalia. Since these pleasure stimulating chemicals retain many addictive qualities, one of the greatest difficulties for someone suffering from love is to, in fact, stop seeing their romantic interest. Neil Sedaka seemed quite aware of this when in 1962 he produced the song: “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.”

JAMES
Roxy! Roxy, listen to me! Love...love is giving up your jacket when it’s cold. It’s fighting with each other til there’s nothing left to do but to kiss and make up. It’s giving them the last bite of your favorite dessert. Love is driving 21 hours straight, across the country, just to be with them for a day. It’s stroking their hair when their head’s in the toilet.

ROXY
Some researchers have shown similarities in the brain activities between subjects in love and subjects with mental illnesses.

JAMES
(to himself) Love really is a madness, isn’t it?

ROXY
Yes, James.

Roxy disappears.