(no subject)
Just posting to say that I really have nothing to say.
I find myself lacking the motivation to write a single solitary relevant thing.
Who cares?
I wrote a terrible 2-page paper comparing/contrasting Aristotle, Machiavelli, and Hobbes for my Shakespeare class; I had no doubt I'd get an awful grade. But on Wednesday night, amid the prof's talk of "how there were so many good ideas in your exploratory papers that went unsaid in our discussion," he decided to read excerpts from a few (anonymously, of course), including a significant chunk of what I'd written. 39/40.
Lit of Terror professor looks like the Crypt-Keeper and speaks in riddles nobody can decipher. I have a lot less respect for Universal's Frankenstein now that I've read the book.
Early Euro Lit professor I had last semester. I hope familiarity counts for something.
20th Century Brit Lit has interesting assigned readings, but the professor has a hard time soliciting lasting discussion. Uncomfortable silences dominate the 75-minute time frame.
Film is taught by a young French woman who looks like Monica Bellucci. Last week we spent two classes watching Pulp Fiction (which I appreciate more now than when I was younger). The only class this semester where I don't really have to "read" anything.
And I've yet to do any significant work on my independent study.
Lately I have been very disenchanted with elements of my psyche as well as my personal living situation. I often wish the longevity of inspiration would hit during summer instead of during the semester (when I have little--if any--time to put ideas into action). It is so like me to abandon one thing and chase after another--if I were an Air Force mechanic, you'd see a lot of planes taking nose-dives into the great blue sea.
Anyway, with horror remakes being all the rage today, why not remake something that actually needs a remake? I'm talking, of course, about Pieces, Spanish schlock director Juan Piquer Simon's laughable rip-off of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Lately I've been accumulating ideas and tweakings for a story that goes for a straight-faced horror feel instead of a tone that winds up unintentionally silly.
I'll sign my soul over to Lion's Gate or Platinum Dunes and send you all a nice postcard from Hollywood.
Au revoir.
I find myself lacking the motivation to write a single solitary relevant thing.
Who cares?
I wrote a terrible 2-page paper comparing/contrasting Aristotle, Machiavelli, and Hobbes for my Shakespeare class; I had no doubt I'd get an awful grade. But on Wednesday night, amid the prof's talk of "how there were so many good ideas in your exploratory papers that went unsaid in our discussion," he decided to read excerpts from a few (anonymously, of course), including a significant chunk of what I'd written. 39/40.
Lit of Terror professor looks like the Crypt-Keeper and speaks in riddles nobody can decipher. I have a lot less respect for Universal's Frankenstein now that I've read the book.
Early Euro Lit professor I had last semester. I hope familiarity counts for something.
20th Century Brit Lit has interesting assigned readings, but the professor has a hard time soliciting lasting discussion. Uncomfortable silences dominate the 75-minute time frame.
Film is taught by a young French woman who looks like Monica Bellucci. Last week we spent two classes watching Pulp Fiction (which I appreciate more now than when I was younger). The only class this semester where I don't really have to "read" anything.
And I've yet to do any significant work on my independent study.
Lately I have been very disenchanted with elements of my psyche as well as my personal living situation. I often wish the longevity of inspiration would hit during summer instead of during the semester (when I have little--if any--time to put ideas into action). It is so like me to abandon one thing and chase after another--if I were an Air Force mechanic, you'd see a lot of planes taking nose-dives into the great blue sea.
Anyway, with horror remakes being all the rage today, why not remake something that actually needs a remake? I'm talking, of course, about Pieces, Spanish schlock director Juan Piquer Simon's laughable rip-off of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Lately I've been accumulating ideas and tweakings for a story that goes for a straight-faced horror feel instead of a tone that winds up unintentionally silly.
I'll sign my soul over to Lion's Gate or Platinum Dunes and send you all a nice postcard from Hollywood.
Au revoir.