urban kayak

Perou

2008-08-09T20:38:00.003-04:00

It's true. I haven't written in a while.

I've been in Peru. But not that long. At any rate, photos here.

Gluttony

2008-04-24T10:57:00.003-04:00

Project Sensitivity's southern tour this week hasn't had quite the feeling of desperation or near organ failure that defined last summer's Northwest Territories outreach. Trouble nearly surfaced last night in Jackson,Mississippi, where after an unpleasant sandwich at Fenian's pub and a musical performance by a duo called Bofus, we pulled into a hostile lounge bar. In the bathroom, a husky local offered a piece of advice: "Dont let your meatloaf." (Was there a punchline here that I missed?)

Brad seems to have mounted a return to form regarding flatulence. This development has not been positive.

More when there's more.

Blogging Parent Teacher Night

2008-04-03T19:41:00.003-04:00

It's a slow conference tonight. I'll see a total of less than ten parents for my caseload of nearly 90, and the vast majority of the folks I'll see, I don't really need to see. It's those uninvolved parents whose children I rarely see whom I'd love to have sitting across the table.

It's obscene that I even have enough time to do this. I'm supposed to be meeting with parents right now. I haven't seen anyone since 7:15.

It's a good thing I had a few stiff drinks at dinner. Otherwise, I'd be really pissed.

God Rest You, Bill Buckley

2008-03-06T21:26:00.004-05:00

Sweet post about the controviersies of William Buckley. From the piece:

As the sixties heated up, Buckley made one of his most notorious statements. It was during a live television discussion about a police crackdown on demonstrators at the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago. Gore Vidal and Buckley were in absolute disagreement about the meaning of the clashes, with Buckley arguing there was a legal right to disperse the demonstrators. Vidal cited the support for North Vietnam in parts of Europe, and invoked the importance of freedom of speech in America. "Shut up a minute," Vidal said, as Buckley tried to interrupt.

"No I wont," Buckley replied — and then the debate got complicated. Addressing the question of how to handle dissenters, Buckley said "Some people were pro-Nazi, and the answer is they were well-treated by people who ostracized them. And I'm for ostracizing people who egg on other people to shoot American marines and American soldiers. I know you don't care."

Gore Vidal: As far as I'm concerned, the only sort of pro-crypto-Nazi I can think of is yourself.

William F. Buckley: Now listen, you queer, stop calling me a crypto-Nazi, or I'll sock you in your god damn face and you'll stay plastered.

I, too, hate Gore Vidal.

Mobile Test

2008-02-26T20:21:00.000-05:00

Does of work?

"If there's ever a problem, I film it. Then, it's no longer a problem.
It's a film."
-Andy Warhol

Crushing Defeat

2008-02-23T16:36:00.003-05:00

From Kingsley Amis's "Lucky Jim," an apt and prescient account of my feelings on Thursday morning in Belfast:

"Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene beat before him like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad."

Jackals and Reprobates

2008-01-29T19:48:00.000-05:00

I'm always depressed when I look at writing I did in Korea. I was never very happy with it, but it's far better than anything I produce today.

Lucid Dream

2008-01-26T17:26:00.000-05:00

For lack of anything better to write, I've been keeping a dream journal. The transition from forgetting my dreams immediately to remembering increasingly more of them was almost instantaneous. I've had some weird ones: hillbillies chasing me with Ziploc bags of gasoline, beating the shit out of an ex girlfriend, and robbing a bank with a colleague who subsequently swindled me.

Sleep is certainly more interesting than I ever remembered it.

For the Daniel.

2007-12-11T18:33:00.000-05:00

No wait. Scratch that. For everyone I know.

New Website

2007-11-18T19:33:00.000-05:00

I went to the national convention for the National Council for Teachers of English this weekend. I came home with four tote bags full of free books and resources and a couple of great ideas for my classes. (By the way, why the hell do these people seem to love tote bags so much?)

At any rate, check out what I'm working on for the kids.

The website is just really for starters. As you'll see once you click through the link for seniors, I've set up a couple of wikis for them to work on for their next large project. In theory, collaboration will make a better final product. It shouldn't lead to infighting or seemingly anonymous character assassination. I'll let you know how it works out.

Dear Leader,

2007-11-18T19:32:00.000-05:00

I've always loved Kim Jong-Il. Hilarious guy.

Sweet Jesus

2007-11-13T22:35:00.000-05:00

I'm in love.

Rhymes with Fart

2007-11-07T21:25:00.000-05:00

Jean Paul Sartre.

He's the hip dead white homme in charge of writing the drama club's new play. It's called "No Exit." I'm currently casting, and I'd like to see if we can't get this thing thrown together for sometime in January. More on that when there's more.

Stay Up Late

2007-10-11T02:49:00.000-04:00

Whilst insomniac, I found this and couldn't stop laughing.

Also, Anne's gone. We had a great time, but I haven't done much work in the past week.

For the Kids

2007-09-27T21:52:00.001-04:00

Sofa's Back.

2007-09-24T23:05:00.001-04:00

Clearly, someone's fucking with me.

Philosophical Differences

2007-09-18T17:26:00.000-04:00

This is my sofa. Or, at least, this was my sofa. It was ensconced firmly in my room at 6pm last night when I left the building.

It is no longer there.

Someone has stolen my sofa.

I am annoyed.

Today on CNN:

2007-09-13T07:33:00.000-04:00

"what if terrorists attacked our schools?"

My kids would kick their asses, that's what.

Project Sensitivity Birthed

2007-07-31T01:21:00.000-04:00

The new website is up.

Of course, most of you know I'm out of the city from 8/2-8/18. During that time, I'll assist as needed on the Project Sensistivity Western Cure, an ongoing performance art piece by Brad Jordan and Jake Euker. I'll be available by email and otherwise, but keep yourselves appraised of the action at www.projectsensitivity.blogspot.com.

Rock.

Daydream Nation

2007-07-28T16:00:00.000-04:00

I'm off to McCarren Pool this afternoon for a Sonic youth show. I saw them years ago in Amherst where they opened for Dinosaur Jr. Oddly enough, back then, the Dino was a force with which to be reckoned. We'll see if thurston and the kids are as old as I think they are. More when there's more.

One Seventy Seven India

2007-07-21T13:06:00.000-04:00

Posting from my fancy new phone.

I'm also moving shortly. Jeffie's old place. I'll send an email with full info.

If you speak to me in the next few days, speak not of the Potter. Or risk death.

Black Jesus

2007-07-08T21:48:00.000-04:00

Live From Congress: Rep. Ingersoll's Murder of a Hobo

School's Out...

2007-07-02T16:22:00.000-04:00

...for summer. It's an easy life, these days. No Fellows commitments left, the beer flows freely, and I don't have anyplace to be most times. I'm rereading the Potter for the coming of the final book. Sauce bailed on our Peru plans, so I'm heading west with Project Sensitivity, Bradley Russophile's drinking excursion to the bad states.

I may pop into school at some point for some extra curriculum writing cash. Not that I need it. It's just something to do.

If I sound a bit bored, it's a nice thing.

Last Unit Standing

2007-06-25T19:33:00.000-04:00

My mother is in town. This is problematic for a number of reasons. I'm drinking heavily to stay sane, but she has brought something with her that beeps incessantly. I can't figure out what it is, or where she's left it. I can only hope that the device will run out of batteries before Thursday.

Dramatic Chipmunk

2007-06-20T23:05:00.001-04:00

Serra at MOMA

2007-06-18T21:48:00.000-04:00

Serra at MOMA

For Jeffie and Marit's last weekend in town before Norway, we hit up MOMA. We were there primarily for Richard Serra's 40 year retrospective. I loved the progression of the work from the propped pieces of the sixties to the big downstairs business. It makes complete logical sense. Check the illegally taken photos for more.

Big Boy

2007-06-14T22:50:00.000-04:00

My soon-to-be-ex-roommate has disappeared into the toilet.

I can't be blamed. It's Thursday. School isn't out yet. What was she thinking?

Apatow Twice

2007-06-11T20:19:00.000-04:00

Saw Knocked Up on Saturday. Seeing the 40 Year Old Virgin a few summers back was a fairly earth shaking experience. You'll laugh at me like I'm an absolute gobshite, but it was probably the funniest movie I'd ever seen at the time. It probably still qualifies. I think Jeffie and Aaron and I were just in the right place to see it. It was a nice movie with no villains and a believeably happy ending. Knocked up was fine, if not quite as funny, but somehow depressing.

It's a bit weird. I'm 28 and single again, and I'm not quite sure I want to be. I'm quick to burn my bridges, and I'm not sure that's what I want to do anymore, but I don't see any other way to do things.

Fuck this noise.

Seven Times Four

2007-06-10T20:22:00.000-04:00

Birthday again.

Watched our girls' soccer team lose in the finals to some poncy Manhattan poopstabbers. We're scrappy, but unfortunately, not terribly good. We did make it to the all city finals, however. Not shabby.

Ate steaks at Peter Luger. It's not cheap, but I owed Jeff and Marit for helping out up north a few weeks back. And sometimes you need a nice steak.

Finally, watched Big Trouble in Little China. It's still a pretty terrible movie.

Annual Quality Assessment

2007-05-21T22:01:00.000-04:00

So, I'll need more assessments for the new sidebar, "urban kayak reviews." These should be prescient, written by the most influential readers of the blog, and semi-fictional.

Yes, I'm drinking.

Authorities: Please ask politely for a removal of misquoted items before suing. I'll be happy to oblige.

Bound to Pack it Up?

2007-05-12T19:10:00.000-04:00

Back in Brooklyn. Don't know about this whole Tejas business. My old school seemed pretty pleased that I might want to return, but their offer was pretty low: $40,000. That's less than a first year teacher with a bachelor's degree makes in Dallas public schools, and my benefits will suck pretty hard. No dental.

At the North Texas public school job fair, things were kind of depressing. My experience didn't seem to matter much when principals took into account the fact that I didn't quite have full New York certification, let alone Texas. Nobody seemed to want to work with me in getting my paperwork in order. On some level, I can understand. That conference hall was full of asshats, and if I were hiring, I'd be looking for as little hassle as possible.

So it might be that I'm staying in Brooklyn for now. I told the Daniel not to give away my spot at the apartment just yet. I might change my mind on one of my long drives in the next two days. I'm taking care of estate business in Mass. No email until Monday night.

Tejas Redux

2007-05-05T13:13:00.000-04:00

I'm off to Dallas this afternoon for a round of job interviews. No decisions made yet, but I don't know if I'll do another year in Brooklyn, especially with Jeffie moving out of town. We'll see what kind of offers I get. I imagine the principals will be falling all over each other for me. I'm kind of a badass.

It's All True

2007-05-05T13:12:00.000-04:00

Scrappy Band Of Lovable Misfits No Match For Rich Kids

WINNEPESAUKEE, NY-A plucky band of colorful misfits from Camp Winnepesaukee proved no match for their spoiled rich-kid rivals Monday, when superior finances and connections thwarted the underdogs' efforts to stand up in the face of arrogant elitism.

The Man Without Qualities

2007-04-30T15:39:00.000-04:00

My father died this weekend.

I'm not quite sure what to say. My relationship with him was so complicated. I made my phone calls, and I fully don't expect to hear from anyone tonight.

It's a strange thing.

P.S. Ignore the mutant baby. That's not me.

Brooklyn in Spring

2007-04-23T12:25:00.001-04:00

Photos at right from our weekend trip to the Botanic Garden. Check it out.

Pictures of You

2007-04-08T10:39:00.000-04:00

Called off the ballgame today. I'm sad, but I have to get on with my life.

So here's where I'm at: I'm single, and I live in Brooklyn. I'm a damn fine teacher. If you've been lurking for a while, just to see how I've been doing, it might be time to call. It would be nice to hear from old friends right now.

Track Four

2007-04-01T17:34:00.001-04:00

I miss her a lot today.

I should have left town this week; boredom's bad for me.

Recockulous

2007-03-29T16:46:00.000-04:00

Okay, now I'm booing A-Rod just to piss off this guy.

By the way, the Sox will open as I drink martinis in Atlantic City.

A Trip to the Wayback Machine

2007-03-26T21:05:00.000-04:00

A short piece from 2.4.03, the last incarnation of this site, from a time when I fancied myself a writer and my life brought me to interesting places:

Beijing: fait accomplis.

One: Jules and I were quite punchy when we prepared for takeoff. The captain's instructions came in Chinese, then Korean. The pretty, buxom hostesses held aloft seatbelts and demonstrated their appropriate usage.

"That was Mao-tastic," Jules giggled.

"Commu-riffic," I replied. Foolish, I know, but the t'sing tao still weighed heavily on my judgment.

"Do you reckon they'll let Shasta into the country again?" He asked.

"Who, Shirly? Without the re-entry visa? No way." I paused a moment, circumspectly. "Do you suppose we should try to get behind her in the immigration line so we can watch them deport her?"

"Fuck, yeah." His eyes lit up.

"I think it's Cheryl," chimed the Irish girl unfortunate enough to have garnered the plane seat adjacent ours. "And she got the visa at the airport before we came." Our heads sunk, and the sigh was audible, not so much because we didn't like Shasta, or Shirly, or whoever the fuck she was, but because of the lack of excitement, and return to normalcy that it represented.

Two: We stepped out from the massive red gates of the Forbidden City and saw the first view of the square. It was massive, at least as big from the ground as the lawn in Washington. As I approached the road, I turned to see the portrait of the Chairman, looking out over what he created. As I crossed, I dodged speeding French and German automobiles. Walking onto the square, one cannot help but be impressed. Communism is nothing if not dramatic. On the right, the great hall in the distance. On the left, the museum of history. Past the propaganda statues in the middle, the mausoleum was just visible over the curve of the ground. I stood in front of the mausoleum, closed for the day, guarded by stoic men in green. Flanking the entranceway were the statues of the People's Army, farmers with machine guns, stouthearted women carrying loads of grain, looking boldly forward, a flag of Mao waving in the foreground. I turned and saw the whole square from behind, and a shiver rushed down my back. More than ten years had passed, and I could still smell the blood on the ground. I wondered quietly how far away they keep the tanks.

Three: Mike nearly slipped in the slick red pool as he navigated his way through the seats. "What's that?" he asked Lily, our tour guide. His tone was casual.

"Those people are--" She faltered slightly. "They are eating the snake with wegetables." She seemed a bit embarrased.

"Oh, Fuck! We can drink snakes' blood in this restaurant?" Jules asked.

"You want to drink snakes' blood?" Lily seemed surprised.

"Hell, yeah!" Jules replied. He had, in fact, been talking about drinking the blood of a snake for nearly a month, as long as we had been planning the trip. It took him less than three minutes to have our table of eight convinced that this would, indeed, be a good idea. Twenty minutes (and two hundred and fifty Yuan) later, shortly after the snake was gutted on the floor in front of us, a cup of bright red liquid was passed around the table. To my left, Mike smelled the cup tacitly, closed his eyes, and took a medium sized gulp. He winced as he shook off the effects and passed me the cup. "Alcohol. And strong," he said, still trying to recover. I stared into the cup. The gathering sediment bothered me. I closed my eyes and took in a mouthful. As I swallowed, I turned back to watch the buxom, smiling women dance onstage. Lechiam.

The Onion Tackles My Life

2007-03-07T21:58:00.000-05:00

Teach For America Chews Up, Spits Out Another Ethnic-Studies Major

Have Faith.

2007-03-05T17:20:00.000-05:00

Bear with me folks. I'm breathing here.

All I Have To Say Has Already Been Said By Either The Onion Or Donald Barthelme

2007-02-14T22:36:00.000-05:00

That's it, fuckers. I got nothin' tonight.

Macbeth: a Tag Cloud

2007-01-26T16:57:00.001-05:00

created at TagCrowd.com

Goodbye Fatty

2007-01-22T12:44:00.000-05:00

Sad to see you go, Trotter. You were always my favorite Sox.

Dialectics

2007-01-18T22:12:00.000-05:00

They did this:

And this:

On the same goddamn day. Opposites sides of the same room. Ludicrous.

Irresponsible

2007-01-07T13:26:00.000-05:00

Pooh, pooh.

Certainly, I was supposed to be at the boathouse at 8:30. Breakfast was to be served. The faculty and students were to have united against administrators. Shit was gonna change, man.

Who knows, maybe it has changed in my absence.

You see, the liquor truck parked on my head sometime Saturday morning, perhaps in the wee hours. It didn't really make its move until late in the afternoon, making it impossible for me to move from my tentative location in Greenpoint.

Sure I should feel terribly irresponsible. I don't.

Ephemeral

2006-12-02T20:12:00.000-05:00

Brushes with mortality abound this holiday.

In Dallas, my father visited. He's getting older, drinking himself himself to death. He seemed happy to be around, told at least twice the same stories he always has, made me terribly uncomfortable hitting on the locals.

More to the point, Tara's grandmother died shortly after Thanksgiving dinner. Sad, indeed, but I, for one, can't think of a nicer way for an old lady to go: a lovely, lucid dinner surrounded by family, hearing and telling funny stories... She had been sick a long time. Maybe she was just waiting for this perfect moment. A nap after lunch, waking for a drink of water, a halfconscious fall, and she was gone.

We saw Aronofsky's The Fountain, too. Tara and I liked it; my father did not. Zardoz, he said. He's said that before.

Apropos. A story about letting go.

Back in Brooklyn, I'm having a harder and harder time letting go of Tara each week. I miss her most on Saturdays when obligations are low and boredom high. I love my life. I'm not ready to let it, or her, go just yet.

Ephemeral as this world may be.

Tuesday, Nov. 21, 2006

2006-11-21T21:00:00.000-05:00

Upswing

2006-11-15T22:47:00.000-05:00

Good day today.

"Andy" and "Marty" were two of a trio of pisspoor performers Tuesday. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to an absent Hamlet. I laboured awhile over how to flunk them on their respective projects while still encouraging them to pull their shit together for act III. I asked Kit's advice. It was crap, so I went with my instincts.

A few hours later, I saw the duo hanging in the hallways. I called them over. Showed them their rubrics. They read. I watched.

I gave them credit wherever I could. "Andy" got five extra points for his prop; he claimed his backpack was a shield, though he didn't touch it once during the performance. "Marty" ten points for shaking Hamlet's hand though the three sat at poorly blocked desks throughout the reading. "Andy" tried to make further excuses. "Marty" wasn't having it. I stressed the gifts I gave. That I *wanted* them to pass. That it was their job to *let me* pass them. They were momentarily disarmed.

Each vowed to join another troupe for a second go.

And to do tonight's homework.

We shall see...

Photoshow

2006-11-12T23:59:00.000-05:00

Jeffie helped me print a couple of shots for my wall this week. I put them online as well. Added a link to a Picasa web album on the right. Check it out, and if you're a Picasa person, let me know. I like sharing.

By the way, all seems kosher with Tara these days. We're headed to Dallas for Thanksgiving.

A Note From Edwin:

2006-11-01T21:35:00.001-05:00

yo wats up mr e [my name, included here in full by the author, is misspelled] man i luve u i got a 3 on my test so know i could go to any hs that i want with no test to take to get in and its all because of u i got a 3 in ela and in math and the only ones that got that was me jazmine and miliseth thank u man u da best did u get my pic i sent u and when i grow up and im famouse ima look 4 u ok u da best

Fermina Daza

2006-10-22T02:24:00.000-04:00

[I am] ugly and sad...but [I am] all love.

New

2006-10-12T23:25:00.000-04:00

Tara decided on a break tonight. That's new.

I don't quite know what to do with myself.

Bursitis

2006-10-04T22:58:00.001-04:00

She hunches closely toward the television as though the device's audio capabilities couldn't possibly bridge the fourteen foot gap. When "Project Runway" goes to commercial, her body springs to a recline, arms folded. The noise of breaking bones is swift, palpable. It cuts the air, loudly; the din of the television seems to bleach. For a moment, there is utter silence. My jaw slackens.

"Bursitis," she blurts.

There is no fitting response. I leave the room quietly.

Green Teacher

2006-10-01T23:02:00.000-04:00

One of the classes I teach is a CTT class, one in which over half of the students qualify for special education services. There are twenty six students in the class; by New York state standards, this would be illegal (as schools are required to maintain a fifteen to one student teacher ratio in special education classes). The way most schools get around this fact is by assigning two teachers to the classroom. Of course, it's simply not the same as a single small class.

My coteacher and I have been trying to work out an appropriate structure for the class and how to teach it. I'm not used to sharing a room with anybody, and in fact, I find the whole situation pretty unpalatable. (Teachers are all natural attention hogs, and most don't share spotlights well.) Making things more complex, Miss B. is quite new to the profession, and she's making all the standard new teacher errors.

Take last week's class, for example.

The read-aloud and classroom conversation had gone reasonably well. Kids were beginning to fashion images from spun texts, and Miss B. had begun to show them how to record these on paper. As she scribbled the beginnings of a storyboard onto the classroom whiteboard, the chirrups of conversation could be heard. "There should be no talking," Miss B. barked. I had settled in with a particularly rowdy and nonparticipative group in the hopes that my presence might crush their resistance to learn.

Of course, the conversation did not stop. It grew. Each time Miss B. turned to the board to continue her copying and drawing, the students would explode again. She drew no fewer than six separate frames on the board, pausing between each to futilly try to stop the chatter.

She could not see her errors, and they were legion. Why not prepare these drawings on an overhead beforehand? She would have been freer to address distractions. Why not let the students begin work on their own? Sending groups to sift through text would have required far more of their concentration. And was the conversation *really* such a bad thing? Wasn't the work getting done anyway?

She seemed to need more help than I could muster. My table was quiet and on task. At one point after the lesson had ended, she called me out. She seemed to think that I needed to do more to address the distractions. But then I become the only real teacher in the room, the only one with meaningful power. I did not argue the point. She taught a terrible lesson.

Two cooks versus the broth.

Things Fall Apart

2006-09-17T22:18:00.000-04:00

At least, that's the word on what they do. It's certainly true of the Red Sox' season; and last Tuesday, that's exactly what happened to my unit plan for the next month as well.

For my seniors, I structured a reworked version of my To Kill a Mockingbird unit that was quite successful last year. It's a popular book, so I spoke to the English department, and nobody had previously taught it. I then asked two students in the class, also in one of my study halls, if they had read it before. Nope.

Of course, the entire class had. With a teacher who has since left the school. Including the two numbskulls who had been physically, but not mentally, present during its reading. As they emphatically told me during my introductory lesson.

It seemed only proper that I switch to a book about change. Things Fall Apart is a solid novel, but I had hoped to make it my second big adventure, especially since the African names in the book take some work that I'm not sure my students are ready for yet. But they seem to have taken to it already; its simplicity and charm are hard to resist. The lesson of the book, of course, is that we must be able to adapt, to change. The world changes, and if we cannot change with it, we have no place in it.

I Remember

2006-09-11T23:50:00.000-04:00

-Pyrrhus, sir? Pyrrhus, a pier.

2006-09-11T21:21:00.000-04:00

All laughed. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Armstrong looked round at his classmates, silly glee in profile. In a moment, they will laugh more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay.

--Joyce

Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss

2006-09-05T21:46:00.000-04:00

Although there's no bell, the sounds of my new school were instantly familiar. Perhaps a bit less cursing, but it's just the first day.

An important point for those who haven't taught before: teaching in real life is exactly the opposite from teaching in the movies. In film, the first day is always the most difficult and the rest of the year is easy. In real life, the first day is always easy and the rest of the year can be nightmarish for the beginner. At least I thought that true until this morning.

Sure, the morning is always a confusing time. Metal detecting kept most upperclassmen from our fifth floor school (we share the building with a number of other small high schools), but it certainly didn't keep my first student away. Nor did it deter his desire to hold onto his bluetooth headset. I asked him politely to put it away, and he did. He filled out a contact card, and realizing that he was the only student in the room, promptly left.

Others arrrived, he returned. Caused a bit of trouble. Nothing seriously disrespectful, just the average business. But he's supposed to be a senior.

Other classes fared better, and yet...

I'm concerned. It's the first day.

The Pretty House

2006-09-04T07:25:00.000-04:00

"Well, kid, you made an entire town panic, you lost all of your friends, and now you're going to juvenile hall for a week. Was it worth it?"

"Totally."

Trout

2006-08-31T22:04:00.000-04:00

I feel a bit foolish today.

And drunk.

Cinema Paradiso

2006-08-30T23:33:00.000-04:00

Fools.

"Mr. E., we've been unable to schedule a sufficient number of students for your twelfth grade English class. You'll have to teach an elective. How do you feel about drama?"

"Ho-Hum. What about a film class?"

"Film? Fine."

Oafs.

So it's film then. Now what?

A glance at the web garners some help. I see this list, but filmic Brad claims the kids will bore to death, theirs or (worse) mine. "More modern," he admonishes. But how to keep the list PG-13 and still interesting? It's a mystery to me.

Suggestions?

Zoophilia

2006-08-27T02:04:00.000-04:00

Denver's Zoo prompted me to pick up a copy of "Life of Pi" on the way home. Two hundred pages in, and it's a very reasonable read. Think "Old Man and the Sea," but readable, and with a bengal tiger on board.

Here's how it went down:

Things to do in Denver When You're Dead

2006-08-18T22:47:00.000-04:00

Hurrah.

It's the last I'll have before a return to someplace I've never been, a Brooklyn high school.

So let's hear it again. Hurrah.

Here in Denver, I'm reunited with my lovely girlfriend who, thankfully, despite spending six weeks at a nuclear facitlity, has grown no additional, unwanted appendages. We're here to visit Karie, a college friend of Tara's, and an acquaintance of mine from Korea.

Denver's a hip town, and at first glance, a far less expensive place to live than any place I've called home in quite a while. Karie's three bedroom apartment would easily fetch $2500-$3000 per month in Brooklyn with its lawn, second floor porch large enough for a barbecue, and backyard garden; here in Denver, it's $900. As if the landlords are paying her to live there.

And yet, as the summer draws inexorably to a close, I'm bummed out. I have very little to show for two months off, other than a bank account in the red and a permanent hangover. I certainly haven't finished as much planning as I wanted. In many ways, I'll be starting from scratch again this year. Little of last year's curriculum is usable for high schoolers, and even if it were, I hated what I was forced to do so much that I'm unlikely to even review much of it seriously.

So, faced with another set of choices: spend the last weeks wisely, or make sure I'm good and hammered.

Hurrah.

Confessions of a Digressive Mind

2006-08-14T10:16:00.000-04:00

I must be far stupider than I remember.

I've recently been tasked with writing fifteen researched, scholarly pages on The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. Not a particularly useful task, given that I am a teacher in a low-income, high needs high school, but at which I once would have excelled.

I suppose there's something comforting in the idea that I can't concentrate appropriately on a book full of digressions; the big joke of the book is the difficulty Tristram has in staying on task; two hundred fifty plus pages elapse before he is even born. Still, there were times when twelve beers and as many hours would have virtually written this paper for me. Today, I'm far more involved, and it turns out that the alcohol did better work.

Perhaps I'm just getting older, but I get the distinct sense that teaching is actually making me stupider.

Nobody in Their Right Mind Gives a Rat's Ass About Charlie Sheen

2006-08-09T11:23:00.000-04:00

Movie slideshows are usually miserable. This one made me laugh.

Two Items:

2006-08-07T19:38:00.000-04:00

1. Who's on Netflix?

2. Sit or Stand?

Daniel's Fault

2006-07-31T00:37:00.000-04:00

Desktop out:

Desktop in:

Good Lookin' Out

2006-07-29T16:27:00.000-04:00

She likes the sun. She also likes math and geometry. She likes swimming and yoga. She likes me, for some unknown reason. She likes buying fun shoes, and playing pool. She likes logic and positive energies. She likes traveling and tall buildings. She likes earings and hair clips. She likes thermodynamics and turbulence modeling. She likes Korea, and crazy stories about bugs. She really likes sleeping and also reading. She likes Leffe, vodka tonics with a splash of OJ, lemon drops, bloody marys, mimosas, wine, and most of all sake. She also likes the X-Files. The only thing I can think of that she truly hates is this photo of herself.

She's my girlfriend, and yesterday was her birthday. If you haven't done it yet, wish her a happy one.

Barometer

2006-07-28T12:31:00.000-04:00

It's pronounced 'thermometer.'

The LiveJournal Phenomenon

2006-07-25T21:42:00.000-04:00

The Daniel, Jeffie, The Greeley, et al. will likely, at some point, drift on over here and call me out for my preference for Blogger over LiveJournal. Sure, it takes a bit of extra effort to cruise a number of different sites rather than just call up a friends page. It would be nice if something like that were available on Blogger. But call me crazy--this is just an asthetically prettier blog. Pages run with other services look like shite. And, of course, everything I do is based primarily on how it reflects on me asthetically.

Plus, it ain't Myspace. Good Christ, that's for total hosers.

Fluid Movement

2006-07-23T23:40:00.000-04:00

Johnny speaks of a move to New Orleans. It's a disappointing turn of events. He's a good kid with a solid head on his shoulders. But the Big City hasn't been kind lately. With the museum cutting back hours, his roommate (whom I believe is named Tyranny) giving him the boot, and no stunning prospects on the immediate horizon, it makes a good degree of sense.

Which isn't to say he won't be missed. But I've moved around enough in the past ten years or so; it does a person good to get away from the familiar. I've always loved the idea of reinventing myself. I've done it enough since high school; I sometimes wonder if I'll be recognizable at reunions. (I don't wonder hard enough to actually attend, however.)

We'll see. There are a few weeks left for somebody to convince Johnny that this isn't the best move. Here's hoping nobody actually does it.

School's Out

2006-07-21T11:29:00.000-04:00

Of the two roommates currently residing in my apartment, neither is here today. As a result, I've taken it upon myself to strip down to my underthings and watch daytime television in various states of repose.

If I didn't actually work ten months of the year, would I ever get tired of this? I suppose there are bound to be reruns...

Plan A

2006-07-20T20:26:00.000-04:00

At the end of last year, I changed schools. Middle school students seemed far too hormonal for my tastes, and the instructional region in which I taught gave new meaning to the word overbearing. Next year, I'll teach in a high school in my own neighborhood. I've been told I'll have a schedule split between slow ninth graders and middle of the road twelfth graders. It's a better mix than eighth and ninth graders for more reasons that I can number. I'll also walk five blocks to work.

Planning is always a challenge, and I'm trying to get as much out of the way as I can during the summer. Ideally, I'd like to walk in on September 1st with my first semester basically planned. It's certainly doable, but not if I don't accomplish something soon.

Re-Jaundiced

2006-07-20T16:46:00.000-04:00

Thinking about getting this fella up and running again. Anybody listening?