RD Addendum

I'm not gonna lie. The ear-slashing bit still makes me feel sick to my stomach. To this day, I can't listen to "Stuck in the Middle with You" without feeling slightly nauseated.

Reservoir Dogs

"What you're supposed to do is act like a fucking professional. A psychopath ain't a professional--can't work with a psychopath. You don't know what those sick assholes are gonna do next."

This may be cliche, but, man, do I love Reservoir Dogs. Seriously. I like the suits and the guns and the fast-talkin-robber-guys. I like the commode story and the "I don't like alarms, Mr. White" and the random conversations in diners. Recent Tarantino, notsomuch, but Reservoir Dogs and True Romance. I could eat them like sandwiches.

And Harvey Keitel. Harvey Keitel is yummy--which I know is sort of weird. But I like him in the suit. And I like when he gets naked in the Piano, too.

So there.

Never fly Northwest

Alright, I got the apartment, so I was specially touched by the good karma fairy this trip. It is beautiful! Hard wood floors, near school and cool restaurants/bars, a little yard with trees. Awesome.

Here's the newest news, though. Apparently, the weather has decided that I should be a New Yorker NOW. My flight home last night was canceled, so I got a flight home this morning... which was also canceled. Not-so-Awesome.

Perhaps I can defend my dissertation via Skype.

Start Spreading the News

I am in New York right now--looking for apartments. Tomorrow I have a couple of appointments to see some places, so cross yer fingers.

Also, aside from the apartment-hunting plan, I wanted to meet a New York cop, so we went to a towny-looking Irish bar on Bell Blvd. And, who should we meet at the towny-looking Irish bar but a New York cop! How cool is that? Actually, the New York cop wasn't so much fun (cute but SUPER drunk, so the fact that he may be a close-talker in real life was exponentially multiplied by, like, seven thousand bud lights). Close-talkin-drunk guy did have a very nice friend. We talked about Billy Bragg and growing up in the eighties.

So, two things down.

Tomorrow evening we go to Manhattan for dinner and martinis.

Re-watching movies I didn't like the first time

The ending of Heat would have been a whole lot cooler (not to mention, more honest) if Bobby DeNiro and Al Pacino had made out. I mean, their characters are totally gay for each other... which seems to be a theme in Michael Mann's movies: crazy amounts of homoerotic sexual tension, very little payoff.

I'm just sayin.

Ooooh, two posts in one day...

I like the congregation of smoke and green leaves,
When you lean in close, and I can smell the end…
The inevitable, passionate union
Of old secrets and new branches.
We are sitting in the middle of a broken fence,
The slats sway from side to side,
Reminiscent of cartoons and Halloween.
White—tilted and tired and tiered,
Each part of the fence leans.

We are not not dancing,
But the immobile things around us dance—
Breathing,
Pulsing,
Blood-filled and haunted.
This house is swollen, and
We fill it with our ghosts.
The tidy walls are just a cover,
A justification of the suspicions that they have always harbored.

I like your voice.
I like the commands it contains.
I like that you call.
Even when I do not answer, I am listening…
Waiting for you to say something impossible
And precarious.
This is not an act of hope.
We are faithless and metaphoric.
We are virtual and untied.

We might be perfect
(Which is just another word for dead).

Luckily, there are no synonyms in our language for redemption.
There is no other way to resurrect,
So I fill my mouth with different things.
I eat your voice like ice cubes.
I tuck your syllables away behind my teeth,
I place your subjects under my tongue…
You are in communion with the gods of Lesser Things.
You always knew how to speak different languages.

So many delicious British poets...

so little time. What IS IT about fast-talking dudes with beards? Seriously. Somebody needs to tell me.

Rhetoric: The Dark and Sticky Art

I don't think that Mark Danner will ever get invited to give the commencement speech at Texas. Call it a hunch.

Ambient Intimacy

So I was flipping through (is that the right phrase?) blogs today, and I came across an interesting discussion of this thing called Ambient Intimacy. I like this idea, I think--it seems to be a sort of corrective to the scary/gigantic/randomness of the Internet... Reconnecting with old friends via Myspace (I recently met the ten year old daughter of my best friend in elementary school--she and I lost touch after she got married, and I missed her. Meeting the kid was icing on the cake), playing poker and chess with friends who live a thousand miles away, checking out recent pictures and sending your own to friends and family, following the lives of distant acquaintances (especially some really smart folks I've met at school and conferences) are all mainfestations of this turn.

Of course, I do have to mention the simulational aspects of such a mediated intimacy--there are several layers to these online connections that could stand some intimate investigation of their own.

But, for now, I like the idea of these connections. Especially considering the upcoming sea changes I and many of my newly hired buddies are going to experience in the next few months. It's comforting to know that I can still see their sweet faces and learn about their adventures when we are living thousands of miles away from each other. We can maintain, if we work at it, some semblance of daily interaction with one another, so we won't, ideally, have to reconnect ten years down the road.

Homecoming

This is an homage to all the travelers returning home today... especially you, my dear anonymous.

I've missed you.

New Crush

When I get to New York, I want to hang out with this guy. We can watch Alabama football and drink Early Times whiskey. Mmmmmm, football and whiskey...