Rhinoceri and JoJo

        In the hour I have between my lecture and my seminar, I thought I'd update.

        A few days ago (or was it longer? The days are blurring together), my friends and I went to see a play at the Royal Court Theatre. It's called Rhinoceros, written by Eugene Ionesco and translated to English by Martin Crimp.        It's an absurdist play, pretty surreal. A rhinoceros charges through a town, and one by one, the inhabitants turn into rhinos, until there's only one man left.
        It's this cruel and witty and painful and absolutely beautiful commentary on the nature of conformity and individualism, and the consequences of both. It's magical realism, which I know is not everyone's cup of tea, but in this case, it worked. The absurdity and surrealism opens the door to deep and raw reactions. Because the events are so outrageous, it allows outrageous and visceral emotion and thoughts. It's such a strange play, both extravagant and spare all at once, and endlessly breathtaking - you gasp and ache.
        The actual staging of the play was brilliant. It was pretty elaborate, in terms of mechanics, although the aesthetics of the set was nicely spare. Uncluttered.
        And the best part, the best part was that it was only ten pounds to see the show.

        The worst part, unfortunately, was that people don't know how to behave at theatre performances, apparently. The couple to our left was eating oranges, dropping the peels on the floor. The couple to our right kept hissing to each other, "What did she say? Did you catch that? I don't know what's going on." The girl just behind us kept snapping pictures (something any idiot with half a brain knows not to do, and is illegal to boot). And a woman down in front kept talking through the show and laughing at inappropriate moments. I mean, the play is satirical, it has it's humorous parts. But, at the end, in the very definitely not funny and rather horrible last scene, she laughed as the lights went down. The lead actor was clearly not pleased during the bows. None of us were.
        The funny thing is, with the exception of the obnoxious, laughing woman, I was completely unaware of all of this until the lights went up and my friends indignantly complained about it to one another. I was too busy being absorbed in the show.


        The Swing Dance Society finally had it's first meeting on Monday night. I was the first one there, being, as usual, rather nerdy. Then a few more people trickled in, then a few more, and then the instructor showed up. She's younger than I'd imagined, with artsy and ridiculous eyeshadow (blue and silver, with eyeliner drawn out in swoops like a spiky Chinese calligraphy letter on crack) and pinstriped pants.
        There were about twenty girls and two guys present, but that wasn't a problem, because the instructor (JoJo, as she told us to call her) simply split the room in half and deemed one side leaders and the other followers.
        I was surprised to find that I was one of the only ones there who had any previous swing experience. So it was slow going for a while, and JoJo proved to be an excellent dancer and a mediocre teacher – she'd get excited and ahead of herself, and used vague, half-articulated phrases to describe moves, and glossed over basics and tended to jump around, going off on tangents and forgetting what she was originally supposed to be explaining. It was, however, sweaty and fun and got the blood pumping. Next week should be fun.

How to vote for "A Monster Named Larry (Lives Under My Bed)" - for real, this time.

Greetings everyone,

Sorry about all the delays and confusion – hope it hasn’t put you off voting! Finally, the videos are up and ready for viewing and rating. So …

Here it is: the definitive “How to Vote” instructions!

1) Go to http://myinfo.apple.com/ and log on with your Apple ID (alternatively, go to the address and get an Apple ID – it’s free and you need it to vote).

2) Then, go to http://edcommunity.apple.com/insomnia_fall07/contest.php. On the right-hand side of the page is a menu – click “Login/Register to Rate & Comment.”
This will be a little redundant, but please also fill out this registration form. For “school,” just pick one you like or attend. Doesn’t really matter. Once you’ve done this, a page will appear informing of your successful registration.

3) Click the link on that page, bringing you back to the student video gallery. Search for “A Monster Named Larry Lives Under My Bed” or just “A Monster Named Larry” (capitalization not necessary).

4) Watch the video (this isn’t necessary, and does take a while to load, so don’t stress over it). Then, on the right hand side, choose your rating from the dropdown menu (preferably “excellent” … cough) and click the arrow next to it. The page will reload, with a message in that same area that says that your rating has been recorded.

5) That’s it! You’re done! Thanks so much. We really appreciate it!

Love,
Willoughby Films

Seeing more

        I was sitting at my desk, admiring the pencil cup I'd just made (all those pens rolling around, the scissors always getting lost under notebooks and papers ... they were driving me crazy), when I noticed that the light was hitting the tree outside my window in a golden rush. It was beautiful.



        But when I tried to take a picture of it,the pixels lost something - they didn't capture that warm, fierce beauty. They didn't see the spangling orange off the leaves (which turned red all at once, so I looked up one morning expecting green, and saw rust and russet and garnet instead), they didn't feel the heat of the sunset in the cool fall air.

        What was it that my eyes could see but the pixels couldn't? I wondered if film would have registered the gold that my brain insisted was there. I remember being glad that I had synapses and dendrites to remember things by, that I had those messy tangles of tissue that see more, according to the photocells of the camera, than mere light.

How I spent 24 hours of my life

        Apple.com is hosting its yearly Insomnia Film Festival. Across the country (and in our case, abroad), students spend 24 hours scripting, filming, and editing a three minute film. The films are then voted on by the wider public (you). The top 25 are then handed over to a panel of world-class directors and producers to be judged, and one is picked as the best of the best. There are prizes and modest notoriety for both the winner of the public vote and the judges' pick.

        My friends and I decided, mostly last minute, to do it. The result may be not the best quality, technically speaking, but it has a lot of heart.

        Here's a link to the video (even if you watch it, please be sure to also vote for it at apple.com!), "A Monster Named Larry (Lives Under My Bed)."

        Voting and rating runs from October 19th through November 9th. Please vote for us! Go here:
        http://edcommunity.apple.com/insomnia_fall07/contest.php
and search for "Willoughby Films" or "A Monster Named Larry (Lives Under My Bed)" or some variation thereof!

        You'll need an Apple ID (http://myinfo.apple.com). It's free to get one, and you need one to vote and rate the videos. The site will ask for a billing address, but don't worry - there's no cost to get an ID. When you vote, the form you fill out will prompt you to choose a school – this doesn’t matter, just pick one you like/attend/attended/never heard of/like the sound of/wish you went to, etc.

        So, please, show your support by voting and rating! Tell your friends and family (enemies and strangers, too)! Much appreciation and many thanks!

Anthills and space stations

The other day, my friends and I decided to go to the Tate Modern. It's an art museum that houses, yes, modern art. Mostly "modern" in the sense that anything after the second world war is classified as "modern," but also contemporary artwork as well.

It was ... interesting. I saw Monet's Waterlilies, which is much larger than I'd anticipated. People always comment that famous artwork is a lot smaller in real life than they'd imagined, but Waterlilies was vast. I always sort of had this image in my head of pale blue water with greens and carefully picked out lilypads in vague, shimmery brush strokes. However, the painting is large, this mass of blue greens and a lot of thin rust-colored veins in it. The effect is of lots of incredibly thin, incredibly fine fabric or tissue bunched over the painting. It's surprisingly delicate, surprisingly vague, surprisingly mellow. I learned that only part of the painting is usually depicted in reproductions - the lower left corner, rather than the whole thing, which is mostly empty and quiet.

There was an odd exhibit, which had two live parrots in a cage, sand and gravel on the floor, and a little hut that housed, not a goat or other animal as one would expect, but a television playing some obscure images. Modern art.

But perhaps my favorite exhibit was a film playing in a small black room. It was just a jungle floor, and ants. The artist had strewn a lot of large round confetti pieces on the ground near the ant colony, and they were climbing around, picking up the shiny, colorful bits of plastic and taking them back to the anthill. It was really fascinating to watch. Very ... quiet, and strange, and whimsical. The only noises were the faint clicking of the ants clattering over the undergrowth. It made me smile. It was so far-fetched, but it was really happening! Ants, curious, inspecting, claiming, marching around with these round flat discs of metallic gold and pink and green and blue and purple. Little moving pieces of color across the ground. Sometimes, one ant would struggle, dragging a piece of confetti over the ground, and then another would come along and help, and they'd scuttle backward with it, antennae waving in the air.

By the end of the day, I felt dazed. Going to a modern art museum is like having your senses assaulted moment by moment. You get a little loopy by the end of it. Stepping outside into the fresh air was intoxicating and invigorating. It was like a good night's rest, a hot shower, and a hearty breakfast, all in one deep breath of cool air.



I don't know if I've mentioned it, but a lot of the Tube stations are like space stations, all silver and curving and slick. I can't imagine why more independent directors don't use them as sci-fi film locations, because they're wonderful. Hilariously so. It's like being spacey is equivalent to being cutting edge. It's Mod all over again, but in a slightly less day-glo way.

Snapshots

        I was planning on taking pictures of campus today for your benefit, but London decided to rain today. Another day, perhaps.

        Once again, the Swing Dance Society has put off its first meeting. We're now meeting on Friday night at five. Fortunately, I don't have any conflicts, so I'll still be able to make it. I was really hoping to get to dance tonight! Something to get the blood racing around its closed track. I guess I could run up and down the stairs, but where's the fun in that? It'll be good. I can't wait.

        Today, I learned that the publishers of one of the books I need for a class have entirely run out of extant copies and are printing up more. The book won't be available until November. Awesome. Hello, Library, be my new best friend.

I've discovered two new media forms:

1. Pandora.com, an online radio site. It's pretty much amazing. I listen to it while I write fiction and read for the rest of my classes. Pandora lets you create personalized stations, in which you can list specific songs or artists as "seeds." The website then takes those seeds and finds similar music, which, while you listen, you can choose to rate, thus honing the station further. The upshot of all this is that you get to sit around listening to music you'll probably like (from artists you may not have even heard before) with little effort.
   
   
2. E-Audio books, courtesy MyMediaMall, via the Warren-Newport Public Library. I've listened to books I desperately want to be reading but don't own or have here with me. The website doesn't have a great variety, but they have some staples. Convenient!

        Also, I was bad. I passed the Student Union store, and started looking at the Goldsmiths apparel. Everything (mostly) in the store is "ethical." For example, the Goldsmiths hoodies are made from fairtrade cotton. Also, the hoodies are really dense but still thin and soft, so they're warm without being terribly bulky, so they don't need to be broken in before they're actually nice to wear; they're pre-niced, like pre-shrunk, but better. And so ... um ... I bought one.

        I know! I'm sorry. But, I figured, once I get back to the states, it'd be nice to have something warm and snuggly to wear and remind me of my adventures here ....

        Weak argument, I know. Yeah, yeah, I've got my brain to remember things with. And this blog. And photographs. And new friends on Facebook. Um.



        Look, I just really wanted it, okay?

The digs (and an excess of parenthetical statements)

        Pretty cushy accommodations, I gotta say. The bedding, however, is a rather horrible indeterminate shade of peachy orangey pink (I think perhaps a bout of emergency tie-dying is in order). They're also made from some synthetic fiber, and result in a fabric that is simultaneously reminiscent of both plastic grocery bags and nail files. I was forced to purchase some cheap but thankfully cotton pillowcases which are an unenthusiastic and un-sunshiney orange. Also, the plentiful bookshelf space but meager book stock is tragic - this is not the room's fault, of course. There is absolutely nothing I can do about the curtains.
        Despite these flaws, I really like the rooms.
        They're surprisingly spacious, comfortable, and clean (in a completely good and satisfying way, not in the desperately-searching-for-something-positive-to-say way). They're very ... friendly lodgings. I guess that's the right word. It doesn't feel industrial, like so much of collegiate housing does. Maybe it's the fact that the room is carpeted in a friendly blue-grey (with flecks of practically every other color imaginable woven into it). I can walk barefoot around my room without freezing my feet off. I find myself wishing that Coe's housing were like this. The built-in furniture, though taking away some potential creativity on the lodger's part, is an improvement to the shabby linoleum desks and wobbly beds of Murray Hall. It's undeniably solid, making it easier to feel like it's really somewhere you're living, rather than somewhere you happen to be temporarily staying.

        After this, I think that there is now no way I can go back to living in a double. It's not that I don't get along with roommates; I've liked the roommates I've had, quite a lot actually. But ... it's incredibly relieving to have a space I can completely fill without any unspoken lines of demarcation. It's mine, no questions asked. I can pin up whatever arcane decoration I want, I can play whatever music, whenever, at whatever volume, without seeking permission. I can have the window open at all times (a small pleasure mentioned in a previous post).
        It's probably selfish, but it's nice being answerable to no one. For a given amount of "unanswerable," of course. School housing rules still apply, some of which are pretty silly and readily ignored by everyone (no music played without headphones in the dorms, for example), some which are actually taken seriously (no candles), while others are tolerated with a sigh (nothing hung on the walls with tape, sticky-tack, or any other adhesive substance).


        Tomorrow: first class of the term. Writing Fiction (advanced). I still have no idea where it is. I was told by the receptionist to "drop by the night of your class. There should be a board posted with all the classes and their locations listed. Probably."
        Oh, art school. Efficiency's not all bad.
        At the same time, it's a little exciting. Exciting in that very disorganized and haphazard sort of way. Regardless, I'm very interested to see how fiction/writing courses are handled here. I'm told that the workshop style is very much an American thing, but it's slowly catching on overseas. We'll see, come seven o'clock tomorrow.

        Provided, of course, that I can find the classroom.

Pitter pitter, and patter, patter

        My friends and I decided it'd be fun to draw pictures last night. Well. Actually, I decided it'd be fun.

        Hey, London can't be constantly exciting. Sometimes you gotta kick back and doodle.



        Went to Covent Garden today with Brittany. It's not a garden, but some twisty alleyways of shops, and then a central open air market with a permanent roof. It was fun, in a very soggy way. It rained, all day. I don't feel like we saw much of it from under our umbrellas. If you're ever touring around somewhere, make sure you have shoes that don't leak (I wore my cheap ballet flats instead of my heavier walking shoes, deciding that if my feet were going to be wet regardless, they wouldn't be wet in socks). It's hard to appreciate anything when you squish with every step. I had no idea I could think so much about my feet in one afternoon.

        There were a few tricky moments navigating the crowded, narrow sidewalks; everyone seemed to be carrying dripping umbrellas. Once, I was framed by two men who passed me on either side, lifting their umbrellas so mine passed just beneath, three boned domes, a momentary and chance awning.


        In one of the lifts (or "elevators," to us colonists) at the Covent Garden tube station, there was a man whose waist was level with my shoulders.




p.s. I now own a UK edition of a Terry Pratchett book. My heart skips a little every time I look at it. It's like I'm finally a true Pratchett fan. Flutter flutter.