I am grumpy and old.

I don't like Freshmen

and don't want to write this paper.

completely disgusted by everyone, nearly. not sure what's gotten into me.

Here I dreamt I was Laura Ingalls Wilder/ Louisa May Alcott in the midst of her passionate (though PG) lesbian affair with the independently wealthy harmonica player of a 1920s era Berlin Klesmer band ( Read more... )

I now require a kitten.

Roger Ebert rewrote a review of The Shining for its rerelease on DVD, and made a point I'd never thought of:

Kubrick delivers this uncertainty in a film where the actors themselves vibrate with unease. There is one take involving Scatman Crothers that Kubrick famously repeated 160 times. Was that "perfectionism," or was it a mind game designed to ( Read more... )

I just had  conversation with a visiting professor, a man who hopes to become a fine resource to future oenophiles scholars, but who seems too desperate to prove it. He told me he'd list Princeton as a "safety school" when it comes to Slavic Studies.

The academe is a peculiar, blind, cave-dwelling fish, by god. Perhaps I should write romance novels ( Read more... )

So the Whitacre piece we're doing this year is based on a Lorca poem, the title of which is absent from the composition. In the original, it goes like this:

Curva

Con un lirio en la mano
te dejo.
¡Amor de mi noche!
Y viudita de mi astro
te encuentro.

¡Domador de sombrías
mariposas!
Sigo por mi camino.
Al cabo de mil años
me verás.
¡Amor de mi ( Read more... )

honey bunches of oats: not meant for consumption with chopsticks.

I suspect that I like MIA and do not like parties.

Fuck you, senior thesis. Fuck you.