pounce pounce

Sometimes all it takes is one question to re-order a floundering mind. I had been thinking about writing a section on "performance of identity," a question so vast that I didn't know where to begin or what to read. Talking about it seemed to lend itself to tautologies, performing identity is like an identity that's being performed. A mess. Then Harmony pointed out that it's a concept rarely discussed outside of a situation of some sort and I realized immediately that I'm thinking about theorizing a specific attitude towards identity that allows for its commodification, and with this in mind, I made my way over to my shelves and started pouncing on them like a little feral cat, dragging down books books books. This little wildness has resulted in long hours sitting in precisely the same position. So I treasure these moments of frenzied physical activity for their rarity.

All in all, a lovely weekend, despite our missing Harold and Maude at the cemetary screening because of its overweeing popularity. We were forced to have our picnic in bed, watching Talladega Nights. Not quite the same vibe.

THE LISTS

to do class: Write JM recommendation. Edit syllabus. Make grades spreadsheet.
done!

to do work: read a ton of performance studies theory, figure out how to start structuring the info I want on 1) commodification of identity 2) blackface
done! read a third of a ton.

to do life: Pay down debt (currently $3,430). Procure dog. Redo taxes. Call Jessie Delgado and Hilda. Figure out Amazon.com problem. Repot ginko tree and cactus.
done! Paid down some debt, now currently $2,326.09. Called Hilda: won't know re next year for "a few weeks." Totally lost my nerve and blited Jessie instead of calling...am somewhat disturbed to find that she is no longer listed in the calarts directory but that she has an auto-reply stating she'll be back on July 30th. So c2 is on hold until then. Poo.

to do blitz: sarah, marilyn, giulia, irmary, mariana, dar, nv, robin, fl, ek.
blitzed: lara

Netflixed: Punch-drunk love. Impossibly difficult movie to watch. A lot happens, but it also seems to cultivate an interminable repetitiveness. I actually had to fast forward to the last scene to figure out if it was going to be a happy movie or end as depressively as it began. Upon discovering that it ends with the possibility for human connection, I was able to go back and watch the last 20 minutes and hear the sappiest line ever: "I have a love in my life and that gives me greater strength than you can even imagine," as uttered by Adam Sandler.

Talladega Nights. Maybe I have no sense of humor? First 40-year-old Virgin and now Will Farrell, just didn't find it uproarious. My favorite moment was one of the bloopers actually, John Reilly as Will's best friend interrupting grace to comment "I like to picture Jesus as a figure skater doing an interpretive dance of my life's journey." That was funny. Otherwise, there was a lot of uncomfortable silence as the jokes get pushed just too too far. Don't these people have editors?