Gustavo Santaolalla - "De usuahia a la quiaca"
You guys always download the songs I start my blogs with, right? I mean, there's not going to be a test or anything. But if you download them, then you can play them while you're reading the blog and we can share a musical backdrop together.
Should I give you some time while you go and download this most excellent instrumental from The Motorcycle Diaries? I'll wait.
The thing about the Blue Gargoyle is that it smells way too much like piss, and I worry that when I encounter that smell in the bathrooms of future baseball stadiums or subway stations I'll be conditioned to get all jittery for performance. That would be embarrassing if I dropped a monologue at the urinals in Soldier Field. Speaking of nerves, I hate late rehearsals because it always takes three hours for my body to mellow out and my brain to stop playing touch-football with my neurchemical signals. Like the other night, the time I got deposited back into my room was 11:30. I know that's only lunchtime for some of you, but there are those of us who believe that nothing interesting ever happens after midnight, and we're not willing to stay awake long enough for you to prove otherwise.
Winter quarter sucks, but I'm becoming more and more obsessed with this university every day. It all started with that damn Allan Bloom book, and now I keep thinking crazy stuff like, I'll take Greek next year so I can translate Plato, or I'm going to become a professor. I sense that is going to be the default career for me, because as it stands now, I love going to class, and if I just keep coming back every year to take more and more classes, eventually I'll wake up one morning to find that I'm teaching one. I'm not ecstatic about this decision, but it makes a lot more sense to me than a lot of the other career ideas I've had (like the one in which a mysterious benefactor shows up in a helicopter, descends on a rope ladder, and hands me the dream job I never knew I wanted). On the other hand, that whole notion of career chafes at me. In high school and even now in college I'm uncomfortable with committing myself to an activity for any more than a year or two. I've replaced music, cross-country, art, miscellaneous jobs, and I'm sure this theater thing will eventually run its course too, not because I'm dissatisfied with them, but because I get restless. It makes me wonder where I'll get this attention span to hold down a lifetime career.
And by the way, if I become a professor, am I going to become completely disillusioned and petty? Because lot of my Core professors lapse into what seems like real boredom in the face of anything that doesn't pertain to their field of specialization. We just finished this book by Emile Durkheim in Sosc, and it completely engaged me for the 3 weeks we were studying it to the point where I would leave class all excited and bouncy. But the professor herself never really showed like she had any crucial investment in the text, despite its being a really foundational tome. Maybe my professors are just suppressing their giddiness over the classics, but it would be nice if they let on a little professional interest. I mean, if Bill Veeder is still getting himself worked up over pink ribbons in Nathaniel Hawthorne, then certainly the rest of them can muster the excitement for the elementary forms of religious life.
To summarize:
1. Download Motorcycle Diaries!
2. Blue Gargoyle + piss
3. career talky talky
4. J'adore le Core!
P.S. We kicked our afterglow's ass last night(!) which means that the Blue Gargoyle piss smell may be conditioned to the sweet odor of victory.
You guys always download the songs I start my blogs with, right? I mean, there's not going to be a test or anything. But if you download them, then you can play them while you're reading the blog and we can share a musical backdrop together.
Should I give you some time while you go and download this most excellent instrumental from The Motorcycle Diaries? I'll wait.
The thing about the Blue Gargoyle is that it smells way too much like piss, and I worry that when I encounter that smell in the bathrooms of future baseball stadiums or subway stations I'll be conditioned to get all jittery for performance. That would be embarrassing if I dropped a monologue at the urinals in Soldier Field. Speaking of nerves, I hate late rehearsals because it always takes three hours for my body to mellow out and my brain to stop playing touch-football with my neurchemical signals. Like the other night, the time I got deposited back into my room was 11:30. I know that's only lunchtime for some of you, but there are those of us who believe that nothing interesting ever happens after midnight, and we're not willing to stay awake long enough for you to prove otherwise.
Winter quarter sucks, but I'm becoming more and more obsessed with this university every day. It all started with that damn Allan Bloom book, and now I keep thinking crazy stuff like, I'll take Greek next year so I can translate Plato, or I'm going to become a professor. I sense that is going to be the default career for me, because as it stands now, I love going to class, and if I just keep coming back every year to take more and more classes, eventually I'll wake up one morning to find that I'm teaching one. I'm not ecstatic about this decision, but it makes a lot more sense to me than a lot of the other career ideas I've had (like the one in which a mysterious benefactor shows up in a helicopter, descends on a rope ladder, and hands me the dream job I never knew I wanted). On the other hand, that whole notion of career chafes at me. In high school and even now in college I'm uncomfortable with committing myself to an activity for any more than a year or two. I've replaced music, cross-country, art, miscellaneous jobs, and I'm sure this theater thing will eventually run its course too, not because I'm dissatisfied with them, but because I get restless. It makes me wonder where I'll get this attention span to hold down a lifetime career.
And by the way, if I become a professor, am I going to become completely disillusioned and petty? Because lot of my Core professors lapse into what seems like real boredom in the face of anything that doesn't pertain to their field of specialization. We just finished this book by Emile Durkheim in Sosc, and it completely engaged me for the 3 weeks we were studying it to the point where I would leave class all excited and bouncy. But the professor herself never really showed like she had any crucial investment in the text, despite its being a really foundational tome. Maybe my professors are just suppressing their giddiness over the classics, but it would be nice if they let on a little professional interest. I mean, if Bill Veeder is still getting himself worked up over pink ribbons in Nathaniel Hawthorne, then certainly the rest of them can muster the excitement for the elementary forms of religious life.
To summarize:
1. Download Motorcycle Diaries!
2. Blue Gargoyle + piss
3. career talky talky
4. J'adore le Core!
P.S. We kicked our afterglow's ass last night(!) which means that the Blue Gargoyle piss smell may be conditioned to the sweet odor of victory.
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