text from denise

good afternoon, this is philadelphia.  please come back to me.

for my bonny cate, she must with me

to date i have not been shy about my love for cate blanchett.  she has a presence unmatched by any other actress in the film industry.  since the release of oscar nominations, my vote is of course with her.  unfortunately, i did not make it to the independent theater to see “i’m not there”, but i saw a two minute clip of one scene and was sold.  unlike hilary swank and others, cate knows how to play a man and be a woman.

i rewatched the “elizabeth: the golden age” trailer and was moved to goosebumps and tears by this little interaction:
(upon being warned of the approaching spanish armada)
cate: tell your king i fear neither him, nor his armies.
spaniard: there is someone coming that will sweep away your pride.
cate: i too can command the wind, sir!  i have a hurricane in me that will strip spain bare if you dare to try me!

several things - i am curious how she prepared for this role.  in order to play the queen of western civilization, in some sense, she must knowher.  secondly, the things i would do to have listened in on her conversations with geoffrey rush.  what a pair.

kiss me, cate!

the broken heart

o lord,
no day of my life has passed that has not proved me guilty in thy sight.
prayers have been uttered from a prayerless heart;
praise has been often praiseless sound;
my best services are filthy rags.
blessed jesus,
let me find a covert in thy appeasing wounds.
though my sins rise to heaven thy merits soar above them;
though unrighteousness weighs me down to hell,
thy righteousness exalts me to thy throne.
all things in me call for my rejection,
all things in thee plead my acceptance.
i appeal from the throne of perfect justice to thy throne of boundless grace.
grant me to hear thy voice assuring me:
that by thy stripes i am healed,
that thou wast bruised for my iniquities,
that thou hast been made sin for me that i might be righteous in thee,
that my grievous sins, my manifold sins, are all forgiven,
buried in the ocean of thy concealing blood.
i am guilty, but pardoned,
lost, but saved,
wandering, but found,
sinning, but cleansed.
give me perpetual broken-heartedness,
keep me always clinging to thy cross,
flood me every moment with descending grace,
open to me the springs of divine knowledge,
sparkling like crystal,
flowing clear and unsullied through my wilderness of life.

blue, period

i understand that picasso was brilliant and all, but i just can’t make myself enjoy most of his abstract pieces.  so all you fine folk out there who are dying to buy me some picasso, go for the blue period.

blue.  period.

#17, meditation

now this bell tolling softly for another,
says to me,
thou must die.

no man is an island entire of itself:
every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were;
any man’s death diminishes me,
because i am involved in mankind.
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.

come home to me, mr. donne.  come home.

the animal, the machine of hollywood

my brother’s fiance’s brother and his friend quintin live together in hollywood.  quintin moved from south africa to the states for the first time a few days before class started and providentially met rob, also from south africa, during their first period.  rob has been living in the states since 1993, so quintin has stuck close by him, learning all about the culture.

several weeks ago quintin left class to visit the virgin records store on hollywood blvd.  naturally, there were hundreds and hundreds of people on the street, but chaos immediately ensued.  people began running in every direction.  they raced down the sidewalk, into the streets winding through the cars, screaming, running for their lives.  quintin completely freaked out.  he didn’t know what to do, because he didn’t know what everyone was running away from, so he tucked himself and the bag he was carrying into a door way and slid down to the cement.  suddenly, a voice blared over some undisclosed loud-speaker, “CUT!” and all the people on the sidewalks and streets stopped what they were doing, and headed back from whence they came.  without knowing it, quintin had walked onto the set of a film in production.

can you imagine?!  i have no idea what i would have done.  but it made for a good laugh at christmas dinner.

isn’t it glad

i walked into the back room at work today and could smell ham.  one of my coworkers was taking a break, eating her ham, and struck up a story about it.  my co-worker’s husband has a christmas tradition with himself that involves a trip to the honey-baked ham store.  he is quite a connoisseur.  each year’s visit becomes more involved - how was it cut?  how long ago was it cured?  which farm is supplying the meat?  what percentage is fat?  etc.  people at his workplace have actually made him take trips with them now in order to purchase the finest selection.  this time of year there is a police officer in the road directing traffic and customers across the street because the honey-baked ham store’s parking lot cannot accommodate the demand.  so one can always expect a large line.

every year my co-worker’s husband does this, and every year he comes home with an interesting story.  last year, he was standing in line with one of his sons and the gentleman in front of him refused several of the cuts the honey-baked ham employee offered him.  finally, the customer picked one.  once that happened, he was to proceed to the next line to pay for the honey-baked ham he chose.  instead, while the employee turned around to grab another selection to show my co-worker’s husband, the gentleman in front of him took the ham he just chose, tucked it carefully under his arm like a football and booked it out of the store, across the street, past the police officer and into a get-away car in the parking lot on the other side.  the imagery is priceless.  no one in the honey-baked ham store could do anything but stand there for a moment, in order to process what they just witnessed. 

suddenly, i love clevelanders even more, and i have a new appreciation for ham and the lengths people take to obtain it.

footfalls echo in the memory

to illustrate the multiple resonances found in an echo, the greeks conjured up the story of a beautiful moutain nymph.  her name was echo and she made the mistake of helping zeus succeed in one of his sexual conquests.  hera found out and punished echo, making it impossible for her to say anything except the last words spoken to her.

ovid made echo’s story even more beautiful/haunting:

so she was turned away
to hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees,
even their leaves, to haunt caves of the forest,
to feed her love on melancholy sorrow
…
and last her voice remained.  vanished in forest,
far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,
she’s heard by all who call; her voice has life.

two thoughts:
1.  where is the mediterranean,
2.  and why don’t i live there with the greeks.  all of them.

you, you, you oughta know

in case you missed the biggest event of 2007, i’ll recap for you.  ashley and i happened upon vh1’s broadcast of the top 100 songs of the 90s.  yes, friends.  hours and hours of glee.  carrie joined us after work and we were able to catch the final 11 at a christmas party later in the evening.  can you guess what the number one song was of the 90s?

among the many wonderful artists on the list were bush, marcy playground, fiona apple, counting crows, stp, alice in chains, weezer, bIIm, the cranberries, mariah carey, smashing pumpkins, collective soul, r.e.m., britney spears, tlc, kriss kross, (m)alanis, nsync, matchbox 20, green day … it was glorious.  and the winner?  nirvana’s smells like teen spirit, of course.

every song showcased brought back so many memories.  i haven’t felt that good (in a physical and spiritual sense) in a long time.  one of the reasons the countdown rocked was because every genre produced such great music during that decade!  the general consensus between my fellow viewers and me was that the present decade’s music is 1.) devoid of such amazing lyrics and 2.) only a few genres are dominating play time on the radio stations.  oh, and 3.) mtv apparently cares more about reality television now rather than promoting artists and their music.

relive the 90s and visit vh1.com’s top 100 list.  but before you do … what songs from the 90s would definitely be in your top 10 list?

fishtown

a month ago, while in an irish neighborhood of philly called fishtown, denise and i walked out to attend day 3 of the 2007 ccef conference.  her car was parked across the street and several row houses down.  something appeared to be on the side of her car.  we got closer and realized there was dried, chunky vomit all down her passenger door.

awesome.

there was some comfort in seeing the vomiter and his friends weren’t reeking vengeance specifically on denise, but chose to leave generous gifts all over the surrounding cars, too.  i also take comfort in knowing the irish do their job to represent, regardless of what town.  denise and i obviously missed out on a big night.

i love you, philadelphia.