#March2015
Weekend Open Bar: Sprang Breakk
Oh, Lords of Kobol. Bless this rotten husk of a human. My week is over. After a stressful week of prepping to present at a conference, teaching, weeping, teaching, tutoring, prepping, driving to the conference, masturbating into a vial of tears in the lonely hotel room, presenting at the conference, and driving home. And to top that sweet, delicious-ass rump of a factoid off, it’s also SPRANG BREAK!!! So let’s gather around, folks. Pull a chair up to the Weekend Open Bar. The column at the end of the Universe where the degenerates aboard Space-Ship Omega (and you!) share what they’re up to over the course of the next two days.
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Tuesday Afternoon Commute: You’re Here Until You’re Not
No one reads this, so why bother? No one posts here, so why both? No one lives forever, so why bother? And I sat in bed with a tirade stuck in my head that not even the medication could medicate out. “How can I UnBe? How can I Not? How can this loosely tethered string of characteristics that is Me stop? Where will I go? What will it feel like?” This is Tuesday afternoon’s edition of what is supposed to be Monday morning’s commute. A column that used to be a place where lovely folk would gather and share their existential happenings. But now it’s a place primarily vacant. Primarily perpetuated by habit. A fading dissociation, the entropic nature of this formerly lively website-blog-collection of-Depraves mimicking the entropic nature of it All. Nothing stays, everything ends, energy can be neither created nor destroyed but it certainly fucking disperse. This is what this anxious, rotting, jittery Meat-Bag is up to this week. Feel free to ignore me, said the Lonely Man to the Empty Hallway.
Monday Morning Commute: A Nice Egg
Welcome to Tuesday Morning Commute! I’m busier than a mofuckah’ here the last week of the semester. Students coming out of the woodwork, not wanting to fail. Tutees wanting me to salvage papers last moment. And grading! Oh, the fucking grading. But I’m almost at the end. I can see six weeks of gluttony, literature, and gaming right around the corner. Here’s what I’m looking forward to this week though. The materials that are dragging me through this sad limp to the finish.
Strange Moments in Solid Movies: The Trial By Atomic Bomb
Orson Welles’ The Trial is one of the great cinematic examples of style over substance, a work whose striking aesthetic overshadows many narrative considerations for the viewing audience. Although such a description is typically applied detrimentally, this film’s particular want of substance is precisely modulated. An adaptation of Franz Kafka’s novel, The Trial exhibits the logic of dreams/nightmares more than the logical mechanics of traditional storytelling; so what is shown will inherently trump anything that is explained (or explainable). In turn, navigating its dilapidated world of unusual (camera) angles, ominous surroundings, and haunting silhouettes, the audience yearns for clarity, just like protagonist Joseph K (Anthony Perkins) does. And just as The Trial is not a conventional story, the story contains no conventional trial, wherein an actualized attainability of justice is unworkable and idealistic notions like “nothing but the truth” are broken down to nothingness.
