I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away..
My stint in New York is over. I go back to Philly this week. To late nights and sleep ins and movies and reserve desk jobs or whatever is in store on campus this time. I'm excited about my last semester coz I do not think I will be going back to school again. The past year has been tough, challenging and rewarding.
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I watched my first broadway show last week. The Lion King.
It was really captivating. I loved what the magic they did with just clever light arrangements and fabric. It is pretty faithful to the movie script, though I wish it weren't so. I could not decide whose performance I liked the best...And the engineering that went into it.. And oh, the creativity of the design.. The standing ovation at the end couldn't say enough.. But they have been performing for about 10 years now, they know without saying.
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I'm reading Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. I'd read in a recent NY Times article about how Eugenides met his wife at MacDowell, a writers camp in N.H. It said,
" Eugenides met his wife, the sculptor Karen Yamauchi, at MacDowell. “It was difficult to get to know her,” he wrote. “For one thing, she spent most of her time working in her cabin. There was also another woman there, an experimental filmmaker, who wanted to keep us apart. This filmmaker hadn’t read my first novel” - “The Virgin Suicides” - “but objected to its title. She and a few other women banded together, telling Karen that I wasn’t to be trusted. This increased my appeal immeasurably, and we were married a year and a half later.” "
I want to quote a paragraph from the book. The chapter describes how a bunch of boys poring over a dead teenage girl's diary finding themselves understanding girls in general better.
"We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonmentof being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn't fathom them at all. We knew finally that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them"
Taken out of the context of the dark and dry humour of the book this doesn't exactly mean what it means in the book.
I just realized (while looking for the book cover) that the movie adaptation by Sofia Coppola was playing at MoMA when Slivy, Sasi and I were there last month. Just failed to make the connection till now. What a miss..
****
I watched my first broadway show last week. The Lion King.
It was really captivating. I loved what the magic they did with just clever light arrangements and fabric. It is pretty faithful to the movie script, though I wish it weren't so. I could not decide whose performance I liked the best...And the engineering that went into it.. And oh, the creativity of the design.. The standing ovation at the end couldn't say enough.. But they have been performing for about 10 years now, they know without saying.
***
I'm reading Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. I'd read in a recent NY Times article about how Eugenides met his wife at MacDowell, a writers camp in N.H. It said,
" Eugenides met his wife, the sculptor Karen Yamauchi, at MacDowell. “It was difficult to get to know her,” he wrote. “For one thing, she spent most of her time working in her cabin. There was also another woman there, an experimental filmmaker, who wanted to keep us apart. This filmmaker hadn’t read my first novel” - “The Virgin Suicides” - “but objected to its title. She and a few other women banded together, telling Karen that I wasn’t to be trusted. This increased my appeal immeasurably, and we were married a year and a half later.” "
I want to quote a paragraph from the book. The chapter describes how a bunch of boys poring over a dead teenage girl's diary finding themselves understanding girls in general better.
"We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonmentof being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn't fathom them at all. We knew finally that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them"
Taken out of the context of the dark and dry humour of the book this doesn't exactly mean what it means in the book.
I just realized (while looking for the book cover) that the movie adaptation by Sofia Coppola was playing at MoMA when Slivy, Sasi and I were there last month. Just failed to make the connection till now. What a miss..