The Sign of the Devil

I knew it, I just knew that Lucifer had a hand in all this. Just did a little math, folks, and here are the startling totals for my MFA application:

13 Applications, costing a total of

$666 in Application Fees

This does not bode well.

I'm with Amber - No More!

I have written:

6 Personal Statements
5 Teaching Statements
4 Statements of Purpose
2 Personal Goals Essays
1 Personal Statement of Purpose (my favorite)

I keep trying to remind myself that really, these are only the warm-up laps to the marathon that will be graduate school. It puts things in perspective, but it doesn't really make me feel better.

And it is damn hard to come up with this shit! I do cut-and-paste a bit, but all the requirements are just different enough to make me have to basically rework and write the whole thing every time - if I was conspiracy-minded, I'd think there was a plan afoot to slowly drive those seeking higher education slowly insane.

KAXE - One of my Favorite Minnesota Things

I know I spend a lot of time bitching about the difficulty of living in the Great White North. But the truth is, there are some things here that could only be here.

One of my favorites is KAXE, a community radio station based out of Grand Rapids. They do some NPR segments, like All Things Considered and Morning Edition, which is nice, but what I love best is the local programming. One Wednesday morning, at about 9 am, I was flipping through the radio stations (no satellite radio, not even a CD player for the Jeep), searching for something other than country. I checked KAXE to see if I could get a signal (usually I can only get it for about half my trip), and stumbled on a 10 minute program about ancient Egypt, specifically Amenhotep IV, or Akenhaten. A fascinating little blurb on ancient Egyptian sociology, political conservatism, religious extremism and the introduction of monotheism to Egyptian society. All this early one Wednesday morning as I'm driving through Lake George - gotta love public community radio.

However, bar none, my favorite KAXE program is Phenology Plus. It is hosted by John Latimer, a rural mail carrier in Grand Rapids, for an hour every Tuesday evening. Latimer reports on wildlife and especially bird sightings in the area. People call in and report birds that they've seen or heard in their backyards. They send pictures, which are posted on the website. A report of, say, a northern warbler (I don't know, I just made that up), will be followed by a lengthy discussion of said bird's usual habits, and hopefully a few bird calls for good measure. I always feel like I'm sitting in someone's living room talking about what we're seeing out the window.

And, my favorite part of my favorite program: The Phenology Reports from local grade schools. Each week, a couple of grade schools (I think they're third or fourth grade classes) record a report of their own and submit it to the radio station. The kids take turns doing the report. A typical one will go something like this (imagine this is a 9 year old reading a written report into a microphone):

"This is Scott in Mrs. Peterson's third grade class at Blah Blah Elementary School with the weekly phenology report. This weekend Missy saw a wolf in her backyard. Sophie's dad had to borrow someone else's ice saw because the ice was so thick on ** Lake. Josh went ice fishing with his dad, and the ice was seven inches thick on their lake. Peter saw two bald eagles fly at each other, grab talons, and then fly away. Ole (yep, they still name kids Ole here) was walking his dog and saw a bear." Etc. Etc.

Two things. One: these weekly reports are one of the most adorable things I've ever come across. And what I like even more is that when they are done, Latimer always tells the kid what a good job he/she did with the report (even though it is recorded), and I always imagine the kid with their family listening to the radio, and the thrill it is for them, and then on top of it all, to be told what a great job you did.

Two: You wouldn't believe the stuff these kids see in the course of their everyday lives. It reminds me that, although living here may be difficult in some ways, inconvenient to say the least, there is a reward. You get to see bald eagles (like the ones that fish our lake from the tree by one of our cabins), deer (like the one that we and our neighbors watched swim to the island one day), bears (luckily, haven't seen one in person, although they wreak havoc on the neighborhood bird feeders), and birds, birds, birds. We are surrounded by nature, and there is the feeling that, although we manage to operate within it, by no means have we conquered it here. And, surprisingly, that feels good.

Oh, and if you want to check it out for yourself, they do stream on the internet. Also, I can highly recommend their music programming - they play everything.

My Semester Grand Finale

So, have I mentioned that I hit a deer on Tuesday night on my way home from Bemidji? Yep. Figures it would happen at the end of the last day of the semester - sort of a grand finale. The good news is that I don't have to do any driving on the Bemidji route for about six weeks. So, in some twisted way, this happened at the best possible time.

It was a little freaky, though. I hit one in the same car, about three years ago, and messed up the exact same part of my car (front drivers side). I am thankful for my clunky old heavy metal Jeep. If I had a fiberglass type car, I would've been toasted. Both times it was the same deal. Just past twilight (this is when they lurk in the ditches, gangs of deer chewing the grass and looking at each car that passes with a blank sort of disinterest). Early winter, with a fairly clear, but somewhat icy road. And - boom - all of a sudden, there is a deer in the middle of the road, standing pretty much on the yellow line. And I see her, and she sees me, and she jumps - right in front of my car. And I just take my foot off the gas, tighten my grip on the steering wheel, and (yes, I admit it) close my eyes. I hear, quite clearly, my headlight shatter, and it sounds so loud that I'm sure it was my windshield, or my window. And I'm thrown forward in my seat, and basically just try not to twist the steering wheel, but keep plowing ahead. There is another deer, standing on the shoulder, waiting, then frozen, a shocked witness. Then she bounds off into the trees. The sad thing is, that moment right before I hit her is the closest I've ever been to a deer, and then she's just gone.

And then the worst time - I feel like I should turn around, check on her. But it's dark and late and I'm in the middle of nowhere, about 20 miles into a seventy-five mile drive, with one headlight and no brights. And a car that appears to be running, but for how long I'm not sure. So I keep driving. That is hard.

But I got home in one piece. Also: I couldn't cry or freak out, because I had to drive. It was tricky. I haven't started the car since then, so I'm not sure it's still running, but at least it got me home. However, the Jeep is not looking pretty. The front fender is trashed, the headlight is missing and punched in (well, all the lights are), there is no grille. Ah, the joys of northern living. I do say this though, at least it wasn't a bear, like Jonathan and Natasha's recent run-in.

House of Sand & Wassup Rockers

So, I can't figure out how to get these photos on my sidebar. It's not working somehow. But I've been meaning to write about both of them anyway.

House of Sand was one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen. I am firmly in disapproval of the constant use of the word "hypnotic" in movie reviews, but for this one it was actually appropriate. Be forewarned, though. This movie was slow. It's a Brazilian movie that takes place in the dunes (I'm not up on Brazil, so I don't know precisely where this would be), begins in 1910 and spans fifty or sixty years. It's the story of a woman who is brought to the dunes with her husband, and then becomes literally trapped there, because it is so isolated. It goes from there, and becomes a movie of three generations of women: the main character, her mother, and her daughter.

It was a beautiful and startling movie, and had a way of sneaking up on me once in a while with surprises, but after a while I began to check the clock (it is about two hours long). Slow... slow... And I am usually a fan of the slow movie. I can put some time into a slow movie and get something out of it. However...

So anyway, I was thinking while I watched it that it would almost be better if you just watched it on mute, like a moving photograph. Oh yeah, and the wind is blowing throughout the whole thing, and after a while the noise starts to drive you crazy. Yep, definitely on mute.


Wassup Rockers is the new movie out by Larry Clark, director of Kids. It basically follows a group of punk-rock Guatemalen skater kids throughout the course of one day in their neighborhood, South Central L.A., and later in Beverly Hills. I liked this movie, but I think it was mainly because of the actors. They were amateur actors, just kids, and that's what really makes the best part of the movie. I do give Clark credit for both drawing such vulnerable and realistic performances out of the actors, and managing to capture some great stuff on camera. But the movie itself is clunky, and the plot feels forced. What starts off as a sort of psuedo-documentary of these kids, following them around, devolves at some point into a series of very close escapes from varying houses around Beverly Hills (and the inevitable run-in with a cop). As I watched it, I felt like every time there was an opportunity to for things to go in an interesting direction, Clark forced it in a different direction. After a while, I just ignored the plot and watched the actors. It was much more interesting. And the soundtrack was a little tiresome. It was all punk, which isn't a problem at all, except for the fact that it was all the same. I could see what he was trying to do, but there needed to be a little change-up; after a while it just got tedious.

That's the latest from Toad Lake. I hope I didn't put anyone off these movies, they're both worth a look. Just saying what I think.

Inland Empire

We're very excited here on the Toad Lake homestead. David Lynch's new movie, Inland Empire, is out! I'm not really in a position to comment on its popularity - generally I don't like to know much about a movie before I see it. Especially a David Lynch movie - no preconceived notions, please. It's going to be tricky enough trying to figure out what the hell is going on without trying to fit someone else's understanding into it. Instead, I prefer to revel in my own personal confusion, the recurrent giggling while murmuring, "wtf?"

Anyway, apparently it's three hours long, and Lynch sums up the premise with three words, "Woman In Trouble." It's all done on digital video, on a camera that cost about $1300. But people are saying (I've heard this much at least - it's really just spoilers I try to stay away from) that the story is so engrossing that after a while you just don't even notice the video effect. That kind of thing doesn't really bother me anyway - remember Dancer in the Dark, that Lars von Trier movie starring Bjork (she wore that funky swan dress to the awards)? I didn't even mind that camera effect. Plus, I've seen the trailer and he seems to use it to good effect.

Check out below for "Nate & Matt meet David Lynch (and a cow)." It's pretty hilarious. I love David Lynch - I think he's cute. He probably wouldn't know exactly what to make of that. But what I love even more is that such a cute tender-type man could be creating such wierd, twisted and hilarious films. The perfect man.

Purple Owl

Okay, so, I have to share this wierd dream I had last night. I actually got up to write it down because it was so startling and odd. I don't remember the whole dream - something involving, I think, a theater production and cast of thousands - this is fairly routine stuff for me. My dreams are always filled with complication and intrigue. Spies, too. But anyway, the only thing I really remember is what happened just before I woke up. This is the truth, no exaggeration, I swear it.

I'm eating a carrot, a fairly big one, but still within the normal realms of carrotdom - not a spectacularly large dream carrot. So I take a bit of the carrot and look at the cross-section, and the middle is dark. Yuck, I'm thinking, is the middle rotten? So I take a closer look, and it moves. And a head turns and looks at me, blinking curiously. It is a tiny, purple owl. It does that head-twisting, blinking thing that owls do. And then it shakes its feathers and flies into my ear, where it nests comfortably (for both of us, oddly enough). Then I wake up.

Okay, so now aren't all you people glad I live in seclusion in the woods? It's for your protection, not mine, folks!

One Degree

So, yesterday on the way home from Bemidji, I'm listening to the radio, they're giving the weather, and the man says, "And right now, it's one degree."

One degree.

Somehow that seemed even worse than a negative number (Well, okay, not as bad as negative 42, which we hopefully won't see until January). But, one is the loneliest number, after all. That one sad, little, lonely degree made the night seem impossibly colder.

Of course, it feels like it's colder than that now, and if my computer weren't an antique I would have the space to download weather bug so that I could confirm that for you. It's probably just the fact that I live in a tiny house built in the 1920's with single pane windows and an excuse for insulation. But I know that it's cold enough that I'm going to abandon my office (in a corner of the house) for the much warmer and, at this hour, sunny living room to write my Statement of Purpose.

On a different note, yesterday I sent off my writing sample to Cornell. It was my first writing sample I've sent out for the MFA Apps. I felt like I was sending my babies off to war - be safe and stay warm. And don't let them tell you you're not good enough!

I'm going to go wrap myself in fleece. Welcome to northern Minnesota.

Beer Goggles - The Mystery Solved!

Set your minds at ease folks, the mystery has finally been solved. Researchers at Manchester University have come up with an equation to figure out the Beer Goggle Phenomenon. Variables include: alcohol consumed (of course), level of light, distance between the two people, smokiness, and drinker's eyesight.

Thank goodness, because I don't know about you, but this issue has been plaguing me.

Those crazy Brits.

Somebody Gets It

So, some time ago, I handed my latest story effort ever to a particular reader that is well-respected by me. We both got busy, and well over a month went by between then and now. During this time, I fretted (when I had the chance to think too much about it). My thoughts went something like this:

Tempermental Insecure Artist Voice In Head:
Shit, she hates it. She doesn't know what to say. We put her in the position of having to tell us she hates it, or having to lie. It doesn't make any sense, after all. IIt sucks. It's slow, uneven, cookie-cutter, self-aggrandizing (whatever that means, Artist Voice), pompous...

Me Voice (Just as tempermental, but ever so slightly less melodramatic):
She's just busy.

TAV:
No, we just suck.

Me Voice:
First of all, even if the story sucked, she would find something nice to tell us. She finds good stuff even in total tripe. She likes our work, anyway, she's seen it before, and we had even less of a clue what we were doing then.

TAV:
You think we have a clue now?

Anyway, it went on like that off and on for weeks. But finally we got together so that she could tell me what she thought. And... she liked it. For real. She had thoughts on a few fixer-uppers (which are always appreciated), and a lot of little editing bits (word cuts, tense problems, the like). But overall, she liked it. More than that, she got it. She GOT it!

I'm sure I don't need to tell you how thrilling it is when you're trying to do something particular with a piece of writing, and it succeeds. Especially with someone who you know is a good reader.

This is an especially good thing because I was thinking about using this particular story in my MFA application work samples, along with another story, an old stand-by. Now I know that, with a little tweaking, it's a good choice.

A good ending to a good day.

Doesn't everyone have at least one voice in their head?

Minneapolis Hip-Hop & The Doomtree Collective

So, finally I have something else to blog about. J forced me into the outside world this weekend, at the expense of all the work we both had to do. But we ignored it, at least for one night, and drove down to Minneapolis to go to First Ave. and check out Doomtree.

First Ave: I love that place. I think it may be one of my favorite venues of all time. It stands, proud in all it's dive-y glory, on the corner across from the Excel Center. It's a monument to the local venue. There is no corporate sponsor, and although they can't let you smoke in there anymore, it still holds all the atmosphere of a smoke-filled dark and crusty club. It's been a long time since my sneakers stuck to the floor, let's put it that way.

And it was so good to see some local music. We went to the Doomtree Blowout, an annual celebration of, you guessed it, Doomtree, a Minneapolis hip-hop label/collective. They put on a great show, full of energy and grit, and, at the intermission, some great breakdancing. And... I found a new female rapper to love. It's rare to find a woman who can rap and command respect, and who has great lyrics as well. Dessa, of Doomtree, fit the bill. Of all the rappers present (and they were good), she was my favorite, with a distinctive style that reminded me of Mony Love (we're going way back here, folks) with her high staccato style, combined with maybe a little Lauryn Hill soul and intelligence. And her enthusiasm was contagious. The crowd was sooo responsive, not just to her, but the whole time, and the whole show thrived on it.

Aaahhh. And now I feel like a real person again, someone with a life. It was just what I needed, even though J had to practically drag me out. I was giddy with fun while I was down there, and we even killed some time before the show (after some Guiness) at Gameworks, that crazy arcade place downtown. I rode a Harley, killed some zombies with a shotgun, and watched people work it on one of those dance games (although, if you danced like that at a club, people would give you a wide berth, pinning you immediately as a demented Celtic sailor - "Lord of the Poopdeck"). All in all, a fun and silly time was had.

And it's been a long time since I've come home with one ear still ringing...

edit: I just listened to some Dessa clips on myspace.com and I have to reevaluate the Mony Love comment. I think it was just the show (don't get me wrong, I loved Mony Love, she had her charm) - it's a problem I've noticed when going to shows where most of the mc's are men, and then there is a woman. The levels just aren't set right for a female voice or something. Not that I'm an expert or anything, just something I've noticed...

anyway, if you have a myspace account (I had to poach off Liza), do a search for Dessa and listen to some clips. She plays around the Cities pretty regularly, and I would recommend her to anyone in the area looking for something new...

On To The Thesis Proposal

Yesterday I discovered that my thesis proposal has to be done, well, pretty much by Tuesday, so that it can be signed by everyone in the English department, several deans and grad school officials, and possibly some other folks that I know nothing about. This is so that I can hand the proposal in on time so that it can be processed so that I can be issued another form to be filled out and signed by everyone on the planet and handed in within the first week of next semester.

I think I'm going to write a song about this experience. I will call it: Paper Chains Ain't Just For Christmas Trees (I don't know if that makes sense to anyone but me, but I like it anyway).

It's not really a big deal. It's a creative thesis, which helps because I don't have to have tons of documentation, and my bibliography doesn't have to be nearly as extensive. Thank gopdness for that. I was given a few examples of thesis proposals to mull over (and I think, in order to banish that look of panicked expectation that cried help me! help me! from my face when I appeared in my chair's office yesterday). One of them was Amber's, and it was, as everything that Amber produces, thoughtful, elegant, well-researched and constructed, lucid... well, you get the picture. It pretty much kicked ass, and my heart fell to a much lower position as I skimmed over the pages. Her proposal was for a combination research/creative thesis, and mine's just creative, so that made me feel better.

I know I sound doomsday. I don't really feel that way. This is just part of the process I go through before I dig in and pound out something like this. I work myself into a panic, doubt in my abilities, compare myself (unfavorably) to others, make a bunch of to-do lists (on which I put several things that I've already done just so I can have the pleasure of crossing them off), throw them all away, spend an hour or so reconstructing those lists on color coded spreadsheets with checkboxes, file those away appropriately and never use them again, pace around my house, make tea, put some laundry in, do some blogging (this is where I am right now), make some more tea, look into Zoe's (my dog) eyes and plead for reassurance while fondling her incredibly soft ears, receive assurance in the form of several licks on the chin, fold some warm laundry (never fails to soothe me), then get down to work. Once I actually get down to it, things always go quickly. I wish I could skip all the pre-activity, but it seems to be integral to the process.

I'm off to make some tea...