Perfectomundo

First, let me say that I hated Bee Season. It did not make me happy. However, the mother was always on a quest for something she called "perfectomundo." This quest led her to break into to strangers' houses and steal truly odd, random things: a lipstick, a teacup, a rubber ball, a piece of brightly colored thread. Eventually, it's discovered that she's packed her loot into a storage facility (and if you see the movie, they do this part really well). And it's beautiful. It's also clear that the bitch is CRAZY.

And though I did not like the book, I loved perfectomundo. It's why I love tchotchkes. So I bring you my own perfectomundo. I take crap pictures, but I'm going to try to make a bit of a series out of this...

Have I mentioned that I sold out?

I bought a Play Station. Guitar Hero: You are an evil bitch.

I've moved on to cheese

Well, I started making yogurt. We always made it in Ireland, and at the time I thought it was kind of gross. However, I am trying to cut down on packaging, and making stuff instead of buying it makes sense. So I've made a couple batches now. It's pretty good. I sweeten it with vanilla and honey or berries. I like dipping apples in it. Also, I made some yogurt cheese. I put a folded tea towel in a strainer and set that over a bowl. I put the yogurt in the strainer and let the whey separate. Apparently whey can be used in a bunch of different ways, but I don't think I'm emotionally prepared to deal with whey. Anyway, it turned into a pretty decent cheese spread. It's good with the basil that I'm trying not to kill. I also made some humus. 'Tis tasty.

I have a little bit of a cultist back-to-the earth in me. Self-sufficiency, man. Bob thinks I'm crazy but he likes the yogurt so he's not saying anything.

America

Robert Pinsky recently did a piece for Slate answering questions about modern poetry. I thought it was completely awful. He started the article by quoting David Garrick:

The gentle reader loves the gentle Muse.
That little dares, and little means;
Who humbly sips her learning from Reviews,
Or flutters in the Magazines.

This basically says, "Hey, fuck you if you don't get it. You probably don't deserve to. And even if this article is claiming to help you understand modern poetry, it's not going to, you fucking fuck."

And then he just supplied a bunch of poems with the sage advice to "Read the following aloud, listening to the vowels and consonants, the sentence movements" There was no "see how the alliteration speeds up this line?" Or, "See how the rhyme scheme falls apart here? Don't you think it's for a reason?" Nope. Never mind that as a former Poet Laureate, he should be dedicated to forcing people to love poetry. The whole article was an exercise in complete ass hattery.

He did, however, point readers to "America." This is one of those poems that, had I been required to write a line-by-line analysis for, say, Poetry and Poetics, I would have been miserable. It's all over the place. That being said, it's one of those poems that I--I don't even know how to explain it, exactly--understand viscerally. Does that make sense at all? Well, here it is. Uh, listen to the vowels and the consonants:

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can’t stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for
murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over
from Russia.

I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me.
I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.
I’d better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals
an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles and hour and
twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in
my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his
automobiles more so they’re all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they
sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the
speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the
workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party
was in 1935 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother
Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have
been a spy.
America you don’re really want to go to war.
America it’s them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take
our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. her wants our
auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I’d better get right down to the job.
It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

--Allen Ginsberg

Anyway, I go back and forth on Ginsberg. As you both may or may not know, I went through a deeply obsessive Beat phase in seventh and eighth grade. In fact, I have to admit that I'm pretty sure the first adult penis I saw was Allen Ginsberg's (in his book Snapshot Poetics). As a result of my Phase, I knew, at twelve, more about sex between two men than I did about the act in any other form. I also started reading the Tales of the City books about the same time, so I was able to supplement my knowledge neatly. When I think about the writers now, it's not with completely the same devotion I once had. I still like Ferlinghetti, I have come to find Kerouac tedious. Ginsberg's somewhere in between. Sometimes I think, "Well, that's just a bunch of words strung together." And sometimes he hits me right between the eyes.

One thing's for sure, though: Robert Pinksy's an asshole.

WOO

I have finally perfected the popover. The secret: you absolutely CANNOT, no matter what they tell you, use a muffin tin. Alton Brown be damned, go buy the unitasker. Then while the oven is preheating, put the tins inside to heat up. And when you put the batter in, only fill them about a third of the way, probably even less. They will be excellent, I promise.

The great thing about popovers is that they seem like they take a lot of work. They are therefore the perfect breakfast to make for company, because the guests will be all impressed that you went through such effort and they will feel a little guilty and then they will go out and buy you an expensive bottle of wine or a nice cheese. This has yet to actually work for me, but you should try. Also, serve with honey, jam, cheese, and microwave peanut butter and Nutella and half a chunk of Baker's chocolate and you will be a superstar. I promise.

Ay!

Yeck, I'm still in the Hillary camp, but I think the joint ticket stuff she's been doing now is TAA-KEE. It also seems clumsily obvious. Hil, you do not come off well here. You successfully negotiated the too much Bill problem, I want to see you get out of this one.

Pretty.

That's right. I think rotting vegetation is pretty.

Hellhole be gone!

I have a confession to make. I am a closet slob. That's right, I secretly cultivate messes in all the storage areas of our apartment. I can't help myself. I am a pack rat, and also a firm believer that if you can't see it, it's technically not a mess. However, my closet had just gotten too horrible. It was at the point where I had about three things hanging up and everything else had just been shoved in there. Okay, faithful readers (both of you), please don't judge me too much....here's what my closet looked like:
Yes, I know. Disgusting. It occurred to me that I had been going about things all wrong. Yes, I hate hanging and folding, but I LOVE organizational systems. Clearly, a trip to Target was in order. I bought a bunch of linen cubes and sweater boxes and such. Also, I bought the Rubbermaid "Configurations" closet organizer thing. The problem with my closet was that it only had one rod. There was no place for folded clothes, and my shoes were everywhere. So, I talked my beloved boyfriend into sawing out the rod and helping me to install the kit, and I was on my way to recovery. I folded everything I could, and only hung jackets and such. Here's the half-way point:












Now, some people would be done here. Some people are not crazy. I decided I needed a little more. I decided I needed some geometric cloth. And a shadowbox. And a frame-turned-tray. A a vase. With a fake flower. Thank God for Ikea (Did you hear that? That was the last bit of my soul turning black). I bought some "Petronella" fabric and a couple "Ribba" frames. And here's what I came up with:

Pause for Pop Culture

Yikes, I am absolutely underwhelmed by American Idol this year. I am willing to overlook a lot when it comes to Idol, but this year is just not good. I refuse to believe that these are the top twenty singers out of all the people who auditioned. I recognize that 95% of the people who audition are either psychopathic or simple, but since twelve bizitrillion people try out, Simon and the gang should have been able to do a little better. Last year, Sanjayagate aside, was truly fantastic. This time, there's nothing like Blake or Jordin or LaKisha or Melinda. They all knocked it out of the park from the very beginning. Now it's a bunch of easy grounders to first.

My Two Cents

So, I love the Academy Awards. Even when they suck. Even when they are waaaaay too long. Even when I've actually only seen Juno, No Country for Old Men, Ratatouille, Sicko, Lars and the Real Girl, and The Bourne Ultimatum this year. I know, sad. Movies are expensive, people. Despite this, I still have my opinions on who will win. And how do I form these opinions?? By obsessive, systematic research. After consulting Roger Ebert, The Washington Post's Probe, David Ansen, David Carr, The Los Angeles Times' Buzzmeter, the Gurus o' Gold and the Guros o' Gold 2.0 (No, I don't know why there's a 2.0), and even Ramin Setoodeh, who now works at Newsweek and who lived in my dorm when I was an RA, here are my (and really, they couldn't be anything but) guesses:

Update: I didn't win the pool. I came in third. Bob came in second, but only because I told him to go for Ratatouille and The Counterfeiters. We lost to a guy who kept leaving the party to check on his steaks. Needless to say, I am upset. Upset in that overly upset way that overly competitive people become upset but don't want to admit. Here's the debrief:

Actor--Leading: Daniel Day Lewis, There Will be Blood
He is probably the most sure thing this year. Sure I didn't see the movie, but I did see In the Name of the Father and My Left Foot, and even though I was too young to actually understand them, I knew enough to recognize that D.D.L. was a great actor. That's enough for me.

Got it.

Actor--Supporting: Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
Bardem is a pretty safe bet. I'm a little tempted to go with Hal Holbrook, who dressed as Mark Twain and did an awesome performance for my Mark Twain and the Gilded Age class. He did a Q & A session afterward, and he was such a neat guy. And he's married to Dixie Carter. That's cool. If Hal Holbrook wins, I won't mind.

Got it.

Actress--Leading: Julie Christie, Away from Her
This is one of the the least agreed-upon categories. The consensus seems to be that Ellen Page is too young and too new, that Laura Linney's performance was great but the movie wasn't big enough, and no one liked Elizabeth (I did, though). I may be kicking myself for not going with Marion Cotillard, who has been very graciously marketing herself, and has the fact that she played a real person in her favor. The Academy loves real people movies, especially destructive real people movies. However, the fact that her movie is in French might go against her. Julie Christie is an old favorite. Also, I must admit that I went for her because Away from Her was written and directed by Sarah Polley, who played Sara Stanley in Road to Avonlea, and we all know about my L.M. Montgomery adoration.

Argh. Marion Cotillard, I can almost forgive you because your speech was sweet.

Actress--Supporting: Cate Blanchett, I'm not There
This is the most hotly contested category. I went with Cate because the Academy seems to love Cate. They also like the whole gender-bending thing. Saoirse Ronan seems to have been written off by everyone because of age, which I don't necessarily think is fair (or wise--let's not forget Tatum O'Neal). Ruby Dee is getting a lot of support, and she won the SAG award, but that could be either an indicator of a win tonight or a "We like you, but that's enough" acknowledgment. Amy Ryan's performance was widely appreciated, but I don't think the Academy will take her seriously. Tilda may be the dark horse here. I'm going with Blanchett, but I have no clue, really.

Tilda!

Animated Feature: Ratatouille
Everyone agrees on this one.

Got it.

Art Direction and Cinematography: I'm going There Will be Blood for both. I'm wondering if I'm making a mistake by not going with Atonement. Ah!

Only the Gurus went with Sweeney Todd; I don't feel too bad for missing that one. I got There Will be Blood for Cinematography.

Costume Design: Atonement
At first, I thought it would be Elizabeth. None of the experts think so, though.

I should have gone with my gut. I am mad about this one.

Directing/Best Picture/Adapted Screenplay: The Coen Brothers, No Country for Old Men
Everyone seems to agree.

Got it.

Documentary Feature: No End in Sight
People are upset. This movie shows why.

EVERYONE thought this one would win. I am really surprised it didn't. Taxi to the Dark Side won for the same reasons everyone thought No End in Sight would, I think.

Documentary Short: Freeheld
I had to go with what the Buzzmeter says on this one; no one else was saying anything about the category. I figure that the Buzzmeter's 32 person panel is as good a bet as any...

At the party, only Steak Guy and I got this one right. Research paid off for both of us.

Film Editing: The Bourne Ultimatum
This isn't everyone's favorite, but I think that the movie deserves it. I might pay for this one.

Got it.

Foreign Language Film: The Counterfeiters
WWII is always a safe choice.

Got it.

Makeup: La Vie en Rose
The makeup job here has been called "magic" by several sources. I would be very surprised if this isn't the winner.

Got it.

Original Score: Atonement
This is widely agreed upon, though several sources say to watch out for Ratatouille.

Got it.

Original Song: "Falling Slowly," Once
Three songs from Enchanted split the vote, and "Falling Slowly" is great anyway. This one looks sure thing-ish.

Got it. Why haven't I seen this movie?

Short Film--Animated: I Met the Walrus
I'm not so sure about this category. But when in doubt, go with a movie about meeting John Lennon.

I almost went with Peter & the Wolf. I am bitter about this one, because I used to listen to my Peter & the Wolf album on my Fischer Price record player incessantly as a kid. That should have been enough of a sign.

Short Film--Live Action: At Night
This is a flip-the-coin category. I'm going with cancer patients.

The Boyfriend chose Le Mozart des Pickpockets, the bastard, "because it was French." I am withholding sex for two weeks.

Sound Editing and Sound Mixing: No Country for Old Men
Hell if I know...

I think it was David Ansen who said go for Bourne here. I almost listened to him, but I really thought that Academy would go more highbrow.

Visual Effects: Transformers
Lasers!

Polar bears! Shoot!

Screenplay--Adapted: Juno
I think Diablo Cody has a decent chance. It feels the most innovative, although the dialog in the first ten minutes of the movie made me want to commit Seppuku (I have HONOR). I think Lars and the Real Girl is just as deserving in the innovative category, though.

Good for her. Cody's speech was excellent, I thought.

So there you have it, kids. This is the first year I've really gone out of my way to do research. I'm feeling pretty good about these, though I'm afraid the more obscure categories are going to bite me in the ass. Good luck to fellow poolers!

So there you have it, kids. Steak Guy takes my win. It will probably still bug me until next year. Next year, by the way, I'm choosing the nominees with the most vowels. Steak Guy!

Rustic Dinner

For some reason, today I became obsessed with the idea of making a "farmhouse dinner." When I lived on a farm, we ate a lot of beets and Ryvita crackers. So consider this a modified farmhouse dinner. We started with potato leek soup. The leeks in this case were refreshing, as I didn't actually have to harvest them myself. My fingernails would get really dirty on gardening mornings. It made me bitchy, let me tell you. The soup was okay. The recipe was from America's Test Kitchen. I tried to find a link for you, but it's "premium content" on their website. Anyway, the recipe just says to cook the leeks and potatoes until the potatoes are tender. Bob liked it, but I thought it was too watery, so I mixed it with our hand blender. With cream, it was much better. I also made popovers. They were awesome, even though the tops collapsed. The recipe comes from my beloved Apartment Therapy's kitchen page. The recipe is here, and it's stupid easy. Even if I did sort of mess it up. In my defense, I was trying to do a million things before Bob got home, so I don't think I mixed the batter well enough. Still, though, they were delicious. I served them with honey and some black currant preserves I got at Surfas, the best kitchen supply store ever (we also got new cookie sheets, a pan, a muffin tin, a highly unnecessary handle sleeve for our cast iron frying pan, a pepper mill, a mesh strainer, a couple ramekins, a cooling rack, and, you know...bacon-flavored chocolate). Then for desert we had fruit and cheese. And in honor of the stuff I made under my bed and in my closet that lovely year, we drank hard apple cider throughout. The dinner was hardy and pretty darn good.

Oh, also, I picked up some Bar Keepers Friend. Aside from their dubious omission of an apostrophe, I'm a fan. It's a very effective cleaner.

(Images from Apartment Therapy and the Bar Keepers Friend page)

Fun with fonts

I downloaded free fonts tonight and entertained myself. I am a wild woman on Friday nights, let me tell you!

New Addition

So, we got a dog (it occurs to me that the "new addition" of the title is in reference to the dog, but also I've failed to mention that I finally lured the boif into cohabitation last summer. I'm a little late on that one. Sorry, Bob). I saw her get hit by a car, and then I took her home. The actual story is longer than that, but there's the gist. Anyway, her name is Lucie, and I adore her. Please don't think that I only kept her because she perfectly matches the color scheme of my living room. That's just a bonus.

Oooh, art.

One of the unfortunate things about teaching is that one's will to live gets ever-so-slowly drained from one's body while one sits in meeting after meeting after meeting. Seriously, we're talking A LOT of meetings. Meetings that usually smack of the feeling that the administration
hasn't actually planned anything, but as they are required by the district to make us meet, they are going to have us do something that a) takes three hours and b) involves making a chart of some sort.

Today, though, was nice. We got to do art. Specifically, the art teacher led us through a couple of activities that would get ELL kids interacting with language. The project I most enjoyed was altering a book page. Here's my finished product:


And a close-up of the text:



It was much better than making a chart.

My Class

Anyone who ever stepped foot in any of my college dorm rooms knows I love color. I love bright rooms with, well, stuff. My apartment is much more restrained than my old spaces, though. I am pretty happy with this. It was time to grow up and cut down on the clutter and kitch. I sometimes feel a pang of nostalgia, however, when looking at Ikea stuff. Luckily, I have my classroom as an outlet. I have to take a bunch of pictures of the room for BTSA (let me take this opportunity to say that I loathe BTSA. I cannot put into words the hate and rage I feel toward it. BTSA is shit. I hate BTSA. BTSA blows, stinks, sucks, and swallows. BTSA has been the most negative aspect of teaching. There. Make a portfolio outta that, Evil BTSA Masterminds.) so I thought I show you, too.

Here's the new classroom library (no bean bag chairs yet, but you get the idea. Em, the Google chair will be "unveiled" the same day as the others):


This isn't the greatest picture, but this is the front:


Their mobile characterization projects:


My corner of the universe:


The wall:


An example of my obsessive love for organizing bins and matching binders:


See? I can still have color!