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Comment on Happy Halloween.
I had quite a time at Safe Halloween. Quite a fun time. There was a great crew of volunteers who were my Greeting Team. I missed the big old chair I used to sit in there in South Hall Living Room. New furniture, you see. Groups of children were brought before me and to them I read. Then they were gone.
My gosh, the first ones were quite a bit older than I expected. A bit rowdy & talkative. I stood and delivered a big voiced version of chapter 1 of The Halloween Tree, all scary as you can imagine, and when they didn't settle down, I decided that an edit was in order, and I changed the text killing off the central character.
The second ones were very young, so I sat and read the same chapter all gentle and sweet with all the beautiful poetry that Ray Bradbury brings to the page. And in the end our hero is not dead. He comes to the door of his all haunty house and tells his friends, "Sorry that I'm late. Trick of Treat!"
Happy Snowloween to one and all.
Comment on Once Upon a Scary Time.
It is sNOwing. i spent the day preparing lectures for the week. Like putting up jams and jellies.
Especially if I can not get to the office tomorrow.
Perhaps it will just rain. For heaven's sake it is still October. And still Daylight Saving Time.
Shouldn't ought to do that.
Comment on sNOw.
I was a little whacked by my flu shot.
There was the threat of black ice and slippery sidewalks.
i arrived at the classroom weary and weak. When done I lugged my stuff, quiz sheets, DVD, and Halloween skull, up to the office. Closed the door and reached for a
Turn off your mind relax and float down stream.
I did not have the energy to move, but with a novel in my hands I could return to the problems and struggles of a character vanquishing evildoers outside the law, slugging it out, and helping little old ladies cross the street.
A little of that and a lot more coffee and I was ready to face my last task of the day - read Halloween stories to youngsters (and help little old ladies cross the street.)
Comment on gimme a.
A little bit of Hollywood blossoms at 300 The Fenway this time of the semester. Six dozen (and some change) students have completed their 2-minute narrative films. Stories, mind you, with a beginning, a middle and end (I think that is Aristotle.) No home movies or Paranormal fake home videos or surveillance tapes or cell phone stuff. Real attempts at wrestling with the integrity of cinema.
A selection process has been undertaken. The best (a collection that fits in our 50 minute classtime block) will be screened. Families and friends and faculty and staff will pack jampacked into C-103.
Let me tell you, it is one good time.
Comment on Festival Time Again.
I know someone whose birthday is today. 10/26.
I know that the time of my birth was 10:26.
Today was seven things. 7 was this. 6 was a PBS Mystery on my white iPad. 5 was Chinese Delivery not to be confused with Axel Rose's last sad attempt. 4 was a meeting. 3 was Video Class. 2 was Communications Media. And 1 was breakfast with the remnants of the so-called Breakfast Club which hasn't been the same since Dan Cheever retired.
I have always been fascinated by numbers.
Tonight may be the season's first snow for some.
A friend once did my chart for my birthday knowing the time of my birth.
I can not remember when the stars said my life would end.
Comment on 10:26 10/26.
1Q84 will arrive soon. When I first encountered the title I thought it was IQ84. Like Intelligence Quotient. Then shortly after I started to think about it as Q-teen 84, I read the Sunday Times cover story on Murakami & his riff on the Orwell title.
It feels good to be waiting for the arrival of a novel.
Robert B Parker is dead.
I miss his work.
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Comment on Family Weekend.
I received an email requesting an interview for a blog today. The answers to the interview questions are to be returned by email.
I received a request for a magazine interview last summer. I turned it down. I believe I said I did not want to stand in the spotlight at the time. But I looked at similar features in previous issues of the magazine and I began to demure. When a polite insistence accompanied another request I agreed.
Then my mind started churning. I plotted the number of words that might be allotted to my profile. I imagined questions. I began to write statements which I would use to reply to any question even if the answer had naught to do with the question. I wanted the few words to be true and fine and mine.
I could not help it. I kept writing the interview in my head.
And then the quiet came. There has not been a followup actually setting the date.
Today I thought that I would answer the email-email interview questions with tangents. (Name: I wear Reebok size 10.) Then I thought that I should say that I am saving myself for the magazine interview.
Comment on Interview.
Here's a note I got from a Poole. (There a million of them Pooles.)
Please join me in a card shower for Alden Poole (Grandpa) on his birthday this coming Halloween. He will be 86 years old. He's not up for a big party, but we'd like to give him something special. What is a card shower? It's a whole bunch of people sending someone birthday cards.
Alden Poole 125 Winthrop Ave Quincy, MA 02170
Comment on Send Alden Poole a Card.
Mid-semester just about. Halloween coming. October Country. Nobody does Halloween like Ray Bradbury. The circus in Something Wicked This Way Comes. Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show. Listen to the rhythm of those words. Like the sound of a train whistle far away. But coming closer in the night.
I want to pull the covers up under my chin,
and be nine years old again,
and run with the boys to The Halloween Tree.
Comment on Mid.
Ya got, Dear Diary,
2 movie projectors. This is how i start my day. One ( projector! Stay Sharp, there) has sound but the picture lamp is burnt out. The other has no sound but the picture lamp is fine.
Do I have to say it out loud.
[this interlude is brought to you by the successful screening of the 8 minute animated short Where The Wild Things Are]
A visitor from another country (Canada doesn't count. . .) asked if he could take my picture. Happens more often than naught.
A little child in a stroller strolled by me and then asked her mother, "Is that Santa Claus?"
Be my walk home.
Comment on between a rock & a walk.
Family Weekend coming up. I made a video with toys to show students how to introduce me to their family members and friends. I learned this half a century ago. i have no idea if this is in Good Behavior & Polite Accomplishment, the volume of ettiquette I frequently consult. (parenthetically, by the way, it used to be Parents' Weekend like Father-Daughter & Mother- Daughter before PC intruded).
I crash Family Weekend. There used to be a Friday afternoon event to meet the faculty. No more. Faculty members used to be invited to ALL the weekend events. Also nada. I imagine they say we stopped the inviting because they didn't come. And they probably say we stopped coming cuz they don't invite us. Sound like Catch-22? Bet nobody remembers when it stopped. When it started.
So I just keep showing up. Wow! You are the only faculty member here!
Everybody visiting during the weekend so likes to chat with the professors.
"Added Value" whateverthatmeans.
So introduce me well.
Comment on familia.
What a beautiful Autumn morning. One hundred geese, no fewer than one hundred geese were feeding along the gravel walkway across from the Main College Building. A tiny old lady herded them away from the traffic racing by.
Comment on The Goose Girl.
I usually walk to school. I have been doing it for a long time. For that long time people walking in the opposite direction have become face-familiar to me. Some brave souls will exchange a smile, others a wave, a few will speak the street-greeting.
As the years go by, some disapear.
Recently I have seen the Budda. His smile is vast. His cheerfulness is monstrous and gentle.
I have had the Simmons Universal Cough & Cold all week. One day it was particularly bad. I felt especially bad. I did not realize it but I walked with my head down. He STARTLED ME, the Budda did. I was forced to snap my head up as furious waving, like a crazy flock of wings, manifested itself next to my head. The Budda was passing by. He did not break his stride. Before I knew it he was gone.
On that dreary morning I continued to walk to school with the smiling Budda face, glimpsed for a moment, lifting my spirit.
Comment on Street-Greeting.
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I live by the rhythms of the contemporary novel.
By the patterns of narrative film.
Don't mean to.
Dear Diary, Just do.
Comment on Books & Movies.
Comment on Home.
There used to be book stores. There used to be more books.
Barnes and Noble is. Borders is not.
The aforementioned B&N stores will no longer carry DC Graphic Novels, because Amazon has exclusive rights of DC digital editions. Kindle YES, Nook NOPE.
I remember the post-apocalyptic TV show DARK ANGEL. The reason for the apocalypse of this post-apocalyptic world was something called The Pulse. It was like this magnetic event that wiped out all the computer data. Big Magnetic Event. Wiped out computer data and stuff. Like bank records. And like Kindle and Nook and iBook ebooks, oh my.
Comment on The Book Wars.
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won't be like
or any other year thereafter.
Comment on Steve Jobs - RIP.
It was cool when Leonard Nimoy was in the new Star Trek as a major story element - Spock. He brought a dignity and majesty to The Next Generation when Spock appeared there. I think that he was born in Quincy. I lived there as a kid.
He has directed fine films. He has aged gracefully. Such a beautiful face.
I hear he will not be in Star Trek 2.
I hosted one night of the Star Trek Club on TV. I have been a guest of the BSTA- Boston Star Trek Association- and lectured at Conventions. ( Even though I am a mundane. )
I bought Jimmy Doohan a drink in a bar & drank it with Scotty.
It is sad that Nimoy won't be Spock again.
There is a picture somewhere in the college archives of me teaching wearing a pair of Spock ears.
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