Plows
Been snowing all weekend, and while we slept more fell on us. That little layer of slippery snow does amazing things to one's walking time. After an intense five minutes up the hill this morning, my calves are not my friends. Snow. But it sure does look purty, don't it?
The new student union has added, among countless other features, HD menus that scroll your options in a hokey-dokey slideshow, and some kind of satellite radio system, so that we get never-ending tunes of a particular tone and style, all day. Yesterday it was measly acoustic ballads. Today, classic rock...? We've got the Beatles' "Birthday" batting clean-up after Skynyrd's "What's Your Name." And now Pink Floyd.
Hi ho.
Fun fact: Yesterday was Hug a Filipino Day. There's a one-day grace period with this little Pacific Islander, if anyone's still interested.
Yesterday was also the day of the Super Bowl. I don't think I've ever seen a quarterback in a dissolved pocket evade three tacklers plus change, fire down field, and hit his receiver's helmet...and the play still come off like brownies. We watched in the cinema alcove of the union, and by the end everyone was surging to their feet, leaning toward the TV, then collapsing back into couches, as if someone had clipped all the strings in a marionette show.
Incidentally, Cashore Marionettes is coming back this weekend. So, too, I hear, are alums and bums.
--
Finished Player Piano last night. It's Vonnegut's first. And you can tell. It seems like his literary response to (or attempt at?) 1984. I don't think Vonnegut really figured out his aesthetic, his style, yet when he wrote it. It felt a little forced, empty, unoriginal to me. Okay, that's enough lambasting of a master. It's good; read it; try it; you'll like it.
Hey, that senior acting project is due soon. Better get on that hoss...
The new student union has added, among countless other features, HD menus that scroll your options in a hokey-dokey slideshow, and some kind of satellite radio system, so that we get never-ending tunes of a particular tone and style, all day. Yesterday it was measly acoustic ballads. Today, classic rock...? We've got the Beatles' "Birthday" batting clean-up after Skynyrd's "What's Your Name." And now Pink Floyd.
Hi ho.
Fun fact: Yesterday was Hug a Filipino Day. There's a one-day grace period with this little Pacific Islander, if anyone's still interested.
Yesterday was also the day of the Super Bowl. I don't think I've ever seen a quarterback in a dissolved pocket evade three tacklers plus change, fire down field, and hit his receiver's helmet...and the play still come off like brownies. We watched in the cinema alcove of the union, and by the end everyone was surging to their feet, leaning toward the TV, then collapsing back into couches, as if someone had clipped all the strings in a marionette show.
Incidentally, Cashore Marionettes is coming back this weekend. So, too, I hear, are alums and bums.
--
Finished Player Piano last night. It's Vonnegut's first. And you can tell. It seems like his literary response to (or attempt at?) 1984. I don't think Vonnegut really figured out his aesthetic, his style, yet when he wrote it. It felt a little forced, empty, unoriginal to me. Okay, that's enough lambasting of a master. It's good; read it; try it; you'll like it.
Hey, that senior acting project is due soon. Better get on that hoss...