Filmmaking debut

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So I discovered this neat little program on youtube that allows you to create your own animated videos, and I revised a scene from a screenplay I was working on for fun and made a short video of it. So I guess now the joke I made with Jessica not too long ago that I would soon be telling her when my next film is out has sort of come true.


Don’t Drink the Water

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Ghost Town

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So I dropped off the face of the planet for a while, which really isn’t a big deal since I am often in contact with the members of my loyal readership. Getting back to my imaginary singer-songwriter life, this is a piece I wrote recently, inspired by the death of a grandfather of a friend of mine. I really didn’t know him well at all, so a I said, this is just “inspired” by it… he was from a really small community which I often visited in the summer with my friend.
Ghost Town 
In the place I was born there stands a fishing boat by the sea    
And that little fishing boat once belonged to me    
And when my days on it  earning my living were done
I passed that fishing boat on to my son
Oh the place where I come from is dazzlingly pretty
tucked away from the bustle of the fast-paced city
But nowadays that’s where all the young ones go
where money’s easier to come by and time goes less slow
Ghost town, Ghost town
The soil on which I’ve grown
and where I raised my own
is taking its last breaths
Ghost town
Well my son still takes good care of my fishing boat
on warm summer days he comes to visit and take it out
to show his daughters the wonders of the sea
the only thing left tying both generations to me
And no one’s set foot in this church for many a year
though my children went to mass and were educated here  
And all the faces around me continue to age
when we’re gone there’ll be no one left to turn the page
Ghost town, ghost town
the soil on which I’ve grown
and where I’ve raised my own
is taking its last breaths
Ghost town
Well when my wife died, under this ground she was laid
I thought back on our lives, hopes, the promises we made
some came true, some were buried with her in the sand
I still remember her fading, the last grip of her hand
Well I know that I’ll be joining her soon
I often think about it from the window of my room
Though I can no longer see the beach or the sea
in this resting home, brick’n’stone is all that surrounds me
Ghost town, ghost town
the soil on which I’ve grown
and where I’ve raised my own
is taking its last breaths
Ghost town
In the place I was born there stands a fishing boat by the sea
and that little fishing boat still belongs to me
but the day will come when it rots and no one will care
except perhaps the ghosts who will still wander there                                                 

Youtube debut

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So last night I was jigging around with my computer and came across Windows Movie Maker, and I am pleased to announce that I produced my first basic slideshow-style video to accompany a piece of music; and that I was able to upload the video to youtube, a process far less complicated than I had imagined.  It’s certainly something neither particularly creative or productive, but it was fun to do.  Here is the link:  Enjoy.

Las lenguas

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De la manana, tengo un examen del espanol.  Estudio todo el dia y miro los programas en youtube con los subtitlos en espanol.  Muy buen divertidos!  Mi gramatica es horrible y no hay las tildes (no sabo si “tildes” es el palabra correcta) con WordPress.  Realmente, deseo escriber el parrafo en espanol, pero no peudo escriber.

Bueno, Feliz Halloween, todos.  Comes muchos los dulces!  O los alimentos saludables, si tu nombre es Jessica.   Tengo consado!  Buenas noches.

Ok, so what that was all meant to say was simply:

Tomorrow, I have a Spanish exam.  I study all day{I don’t yet know past tense} and watch shows on youtube with Spanish subtitles.  Very good entertainment!  My grammar is horrible and there are no accents (I don’t know if “tildes” is the right word) with wordpress.  Really, I want to write a paragraph in Spanish but I cannot write.

Well, Happy Halloween, everybody.  Eat lots of candy.  Or healthy foods, if your name is Jessica.  I am tired.  Good night.

The passage is a lot more fun in my sexy (albeit botched) Spanish.  This is why becoming trilingual is of the utmost importance!  Forget travel and work opportunities, I just want to sound exotic no matter how bland the subject matter may be that I am discussing!  🙂

Sex, food and climate change: What to Expect from McEwan’s “Solar”

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Entrancing readers through characters who exhibit poor morals should be the experienced author’s plateau.  The narcissist, the delusional, even the pathological, while repulsing and horrifying us, nonetheless offer slightly warped mirrors in which we can see ourselves, and naturally, all of human nature.

And who better to provide us with the ultimate protagonist we love to hate, or hate to love, whichever way you may want to put it, than one of the world’s best, English writer Ian McEwan?  In his latest work, McEwan provides us with Michael Beard: abominable husband and unlikely womanizer, egocentric glutton and, surprisingly, a Nobel Prize winning physicist.  His days of scientific brilliance are long behind him, he’s addicted to sex and salt and vinegar chips, he lazily and apathetically maintains a living by riding on the coattails of his younger self, but somehow, miraculously, he’s going to save the world from the detrimental effects of climate change.

Within the opening pages of “Solar”, McEwan draws the reader into the bizarre, oftentimes painfully pathetic and incomprehensible character and lifestyle of Michael Beard.  Having successfully sabotaged four previous marriages with his insensitivity and philandering, Beard is currently in the throes of the destruction of his fifth marriage, in which his current gorgeous wife has turned the tables upon him: she’s the cheater and he’s the “cuckold”.  What’s more, he’s still painfully erotically obsessed with her.  The first night we spend in Beard’s company, he engages in a pseudo-affair in an attempt to make his wife jealous, lying alone in his room, delicately keeping his own vocalizations in balance with the speech of a woman on his television set; knowing the particulars of the speech will be muffled in his wife’s adjacent room.  His career is in a similar state of absurdity: he’s been appointed “chief” of a company concerned with renewable energy, currently invested in its first futile project: the production of wind turbines that are neither overly useful or cost-efficient, the result of the chief’s own poorly thought out suggestion.

And so the stage is set.  From here, events only get increasingly tumultuous, darkly humourous, and sometimes, farcical.  McEwan’s ability as an adept humourist shines in this novel, and shines the whole way through.  Beard’s one redeeming feature is his intelligence (which, naturally, is essentially McEwan’s intelligence) and his observations and perspective, particularly in various ludicrous situations, is quite amusing.  Whether it’s an attempt to pee outside gone awry during a trip to the Arctic, or a ruthless lambasting he’s receiving from social scientists due to quasi-sexist speculations on differences in the male and female mind, Beard just makes you laugh.

What exactly McEwan wished to accomplish with “Solar” is a little unclear, however.  If it was to produce simply a satirical tale on climate change, it’s hit the mark.  As a cohesive or emotionally-in-depth work, however, it fails.  Episodic novels rarely work, unless you’re Mark Twain writing Huck Finn.  And Beard’s character is tiring.  The lack of character development is obviously intentional and fitting; we are a lazy, consumptive species unwilling to change our habits (hence global warming); so is Beard.  He continues to drift from woman to woman, and to eat excessive junk food, not heeding the consequences until the conclusion, in which the consequences of his lifestyle finally catch up to him, as does the significance of previous seemingly unrelated epsidoes, producing a climax that’s too over the top to get invested in.

To summarize, “Solar” is not a gripping, emotionally intense exploration of human consciousness and regret, unlike McEwan’s other recent works.  In “Atonement”, readers are left to ponder the necessary but potentially harmful role of story-telling  to cleanse humanity of its foibles; “Saturday” allows us to share in Henry Perowne’s struggle to grapple with mortality, morality and to reach  elevations of consciousness in empathizing with the man who threatens to kill his family.  “On Chesil Beach”  sets readers (particularly young ones) into modes of panic about mortality and the impact that choices today, especially in terms of love and commitment, can have on tomorrow.

Having said all that, I’m sure McEwan’s intentions for his lastest literary contribution were quite different from that of his other novels, and that’s his business.  “Solar” is well-worth the read, it just doesn’t take readers to the same heights that classic McEwan does.

Getting goofy studying soc

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So today I am studying for a sociology midterm I have this coming week, and lately I’ve been listening to Sarah Slean’s "Duncan" excessively. Not any other songs on that album or any other Slean album, mind you, that my sister has ripped onto Windows Live Media player, just the one. I am obsessive like that.  Anyway, this has been the result of mixing the two:
Whatever happened to Durkheim?                                                           
Alex was talking to him, they say.*
He was concerned with suicide and anomie
and now he’s gone away.
When the soc students study him
they don’t really know what to say
except he was the first functionalist;
groundbreaking in his own way.
Oh you fool, you fool
To see where we are now
we must go back to the start
Analyse the theorists and the theories
of which we are a part
they’re all in categories
but really they should mix
look at it all from different angles
or you’ll end up in a fix
and whatever happened to Marx?
He wasn’t a Marxist, they say.
He was concerned with inequality and power
conflicts which remain true today.
And then there’s Erving Goffman
He interpreted it all as a play
And feminist Nellie McClung
who said women can lead the way.
Oh you fool, you fool.
To see where we are now
We must go back to the start
Analyse the theorists and the theories
of which we are a part
they’re all in categories
but really they should mix
look at it all from different angles
or you’ll end up in a fix
This is society
We must see that it sucks again and again
And fight a thousand times
for the sake of less suckiness
but never once in vain
*the reference to Alex is an inside joke, which my two loyal readers will recognise.

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