i miss eli. his absence is permeating my existence and affecting my happy reality.

dahh too bad rothbury didnt work out, i really wish i was there right now. damnnnn. well i hope knief is having a fucking awesome time seein' the dead on his 21st birthday, sucks i couldnt be there with him but it just didnt work out.

ive officially moved to utah. its very slow paced out here, not a whole lot to do. but there are good people to not do a whole lot with. keely and willie's house is awesome and i love going over there. i slept there last night--i was going to sleep in her sister's room in the basement but after being in there for five minutes i realized why keely's sister doesn't sleep there. bad feng shui and scary huge black beetles everywhere. and spiders. so i slept on the couch. anywho, kelly keely willie jake and i woke up, smoked a j, and went to the fourth of july parade downtown. nice morning. i gotta go, somethings come up.

Rothbury

I NEED A RIDE TO ROTHBURY!!!!!!!!!! Anyone going?!?!?

Chapter 1: The Mission to Dream by Elizabeth A. Lennox

once there was a girl named deva and she was the heir to the throne of the Black-Regan empire in eastern Evesham. she was not a girly-girl and liked adventure; she frequently took scenic walks on The Wild Side. one day, when she had reached the age of maturity , she had a vision. the great god of Relaxation appeared before her and spoke: "Deva of the Great Black-Regans, I will appear to you in order to present you with a mission that will change your destiny." He yawned.
during this pause, deva's mind raced. she was never one to decline an opportunity to create a story of her own. Relaxation continued:
"Something very serious has offended be and i can't eat, i can't drink, and i cannot sleep. until i can do so, you and your minions and family will face the same fate that i've experienced."
deva felt a deep pity for Relaxation in this moment, for she understood that a good sleep was more precious than gold. and a good drink was worth the loss of a good sleep.
"Your Laziness," she spoke, "how may i mend the unfortunate situation that is beset upon you? it pains me to see you so active against your will, for i, too, share your love of afternoon naps and big comfy couches."
he could tell that she was sincere in her plea, so he began his tale...

"I have lived for ages, since the first Man was created and He spent his days sitting under lush fig trees to avoid the summer sun. Since then, it has been harder and harder for my presence to be felt in the mortal world. Man has fallen in love with me, but held so tightly that i've fallen out of his grasp. the harder he tries to make life easier, the more complex it becomes. you work and work and work to make money to buy things that others of your kind had to work. this cycle is only getting worse--soon i will be obsolete. for a moment, imagine life a century from now. Do you think of people tanning at the beach or taking a hike to pick wild flowers? No. You think of faster cars (to get you to work quicker), space travel (perhaps to take advantage of untapped natural resources), and ______ (word splotched out b/c of watermark) of weaponry (to kill your own kind). Where is the time to both figuratively and literally, stop and smell the roses?"
this was not a foreign thought to deva. she frequently felt regret when she had to interrupt her daily daydreaming to address her royal responsibilities.
"Deva, you have been chosen to put an end to the plague of unnecessary responsibility. you must go into The City and rekindle the lazy sunday by destroying my arch-nemesis---The Internet."
Deva gasped. although she was delighted by the thought of a NeoRelaxation movement, The Internet was an important part of her time wasting regiment.
What a paradox she has to face.

Magic Hat Bottle Caps

*Life is better barefoot

*Make your Move to Improve your Groove

Feed the Nation with Imagination

*Eyes? check.
Ears? check.
Mind? check...

The Truth is Slippery, like Eels

What is the Cost of the Things you have Lost?

Keep the Pace, go to Space

Don't Strain your Brain in times of Pain

Beer for Peace

Blow off all the Show offs

*You Can't Be Real unless You Feel

Your message in a bottle...cap

History Mystery: Prohibition

*We all have the Power to Blossom & Flower

& my personal favorite:

*If Jerry were here, we'd Buy him a Beer

oh boy

got back from my two week vacation in berlin a couple of days ago. it was the most amazing time with eli in such a wonderful city and i wish i was still there but i have too many other things going on to wax about it. definitely though, the best vacation/experience i've had to date. i'll hold in my heart forever how much it meant to me, so i'm not going to bother writing about it here. i'm moving to utah next tuesday. pretty crazy. thusly, my mom is having me clean out my room here at home, which i dont even use anymore but has so many memories as well as trash. i need to sort through Everything--clothes, movies, books, furniture, memoribilia, school work, notebooks, everything i've ever held on to--decide whether to trash it, keep it, what not. long long process and i dont even know where to begin. so i'm beginning with probably what i should be doing last and i'm going to start posting a lot of stuff here just so i can throw away the hardcopy but maintain the memory. first and foremost: i have a collection of magic hat bottle caps, i keep the ones with the good sayings. so i'm going to post the sayings so i can throw out the fucking bottle caps (or give them to liz).

so i was drunk and given some x so i took it without thinking, sucked on it for about a minute, then spit it and put it in my pocket when i realized i have work at 930 in the morning. still, after merely a minute, im up and in no shape for sleeping Any Time Soon and in good shape for reflection as i am by myself; the only one up at this hour. i Stumbled upon some nuggets of native american wisdom and that got my mind rolling because it was all so true. right now, im thinking about this native american traditional poem that's hanging on the wall at my home home, by my dad's ashes.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

i think this poem explains a lot about why my dad wished to be cremated instead of buried (thus why it's hanging right next to him), but i suppose we should've scattered his ashes to really let his soul spread. i hope we're not selfishly holding his essence captive in a meaningless urn. i think my mom still needs him around though. i know that he knows how often i think about him and how much i miss him and how i wish he could've been around to shape my future and my sisters' futures but i guess he has been there all along, just not in the form that is so tangible. lately, thinking about dad always leads to thoughts of eli because both are the most important men in my life, both are always present in my mind, and both are out of reach. it's so good to know how much my mom appreciates the good vibrations that emanate from eli because it confirms that dad would have loved him too.

oh baby i love ecstasy. good good good good vibrations. i don't know where but he sends me there!!!!!!! elij, if you're reading this... :-D

-Stella Blue

p.s. 3 updates in one day! overrrrload.

Possible Paths

Haven't updated in awhile. I've been using other media to write lately. I've decided to take an extended indiscernible amount of time off from school commencing at the end of this spring semester. Instead, I'll (hopefully hopefully) be working some position at Best Friends in Kanab, Utah, living with Jas and/or Kelly. Due to the unstable economy, this glorious non-profit organization is naturally suffering and I don't know if they're hiring for the position I want anymore. I'd take a position as a tour guide though, because Jas says that's potentially available and that would be fucking awesome. If shit doesn't work out for me in Utah, I'll be a little disoriented for awhile because I've been really counting on this Best Friends job. Maybe some time at home, working somewhere, and seeing how life would be living with Mom and the Buffster again. I don't know where I'd work at home though, especially without a car (R.I.P Jethro..), and no money or interest in buying another one. I could always go back to the movie theatre (NO.) or find somewhereeeeeeee to work. Don't know if I could handle Mom in such close vicinity also. Ideally, I would love to move to West Philly and live somewhere for really cheap, get a decent paying job that I don't have to worry about, and explore life as an artist in a thriving city; with Eli & Kate & Liz. Although, that would be more feasible if I worked at Best Friends first for 4-6 months and saved up some money there, so I could enter Philly with some savings while looking for a jobbb. I probably should've warned readers that this entry is probably pretty dry, as it's more me writing to myself rather than to an audience. Enough of the Far Future.

In the Near Future (tonight), I'll be going to see The Future Kids at the Court Tavern! First, before Jenny gets here, I'm going to go pick up my paycheck. So....I'm gonna go do that. Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.........
-Stella Blue.

"The Art of Interruption--'His Girl Friday'"

Howard Hawk’s 1940 film adaptation, His Girl Friday, is a remarkable example of gender relations in film. Its rapid fire banter between the sexes, along with its more or less equal division of male and female lead roles, and its depiction of a female lead as less of a one dimensional ‘love interest’ and more as a complex, vibrant, multi-dimensional character, all lend to the screwball comedy genre it represents. Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell are Walter and Hildy, two equally conniving yet charismatic characters that are the driving force of this comedy. Hawks’ comedic vision is to create humor out of putting two fast-talkers into complicated situations and letting the audience watch them talk their way either out of a tough spot or into a good one. However, the film is not as concerned with the situations themselves as it is with the dynamics between Hildy and Walter. Hawks uses multiple methods to ensure that the focus of the film is on the relations between Hildy and Walter. The scene beginning with Walter’s introduction, in his office, as Hildy lets herself in, and ending with both leaving the office amiably after a revealing confrontation (also known as the second scene in the film) contains the DNA of Hawks’ comedic vision.
Formally, this film is a straightforward narrative with no flashbacks, twists, or provocative editing. The mise-en-scene (excluding the characters’ movement) is sufficient in creating a believable newspaper office but does not play much of a role in itself. The camera more or less stays in the same position throughout the scene, panning from space to space, and does not take any technical risks but adheres to Classical Hollywood conventions like medium shots/medium close-ups, 3-point/high-key lighting, and the continuity editing system. However, this is not because Hawks is incapable of provocative art. He chose to subdue the mise-en-scene to emphasize the importance of the dialogue and the chemistry between Hildy and Walter. Their exchanges are masterfully written and executed but they do talk quite fast. Another effort in maintaining focus on the lead subjects is the lack of non-diegetic sound. There is no soundtrack or score, only a clear reception of the fervid tête-à-tête taking place in the office and the dim din of the bustling employees in the background—which Hawks chose to include in the depth of field to realistically simulate the constant activity found at a newspapers’ headquarters. The busy background in conjunction with the rapid-fire style of dialogue and Walter and Hildy’s own constantly-in-motion mannerisms all combine to create this chaotic, oft confusing, absurd, but mostly funny atmosphere that permeates through to the end of the film. As the core of the film relies on conversation (or argument, rather), Hawks does create many eyeline matches and shot/reverse shots that flow seamlessly with the dialogue.
Previously, the ‘characters gestures’ were excluded from the purposefully lackluster mise-en-scene description because their gestures, from the obvious constant cigarette smoking to the less obvious fond eye-roll, play an important role in providing inferences about Hildy and Walter’s past, present, and future relationship together and also about their own individual personalities. When Hildy first enters Walter’s office, adding a knock as an afterthought after she already entered, she introduces herself as the ‘ex-wife’ with a nonchalant confidence that immediately sets bells off in the audiences’ heads—the strong-willed, sassy, female ‘screwball’! Without missing a beat, Walter is introduced as the morally ambiguous yet dashing (as how can any character Cary Grant play not be dashing?) newspaperman that is too preoccupied with his work, i.e. getting a shave in the office, barking orders at Duffy to change the Morning Posts’ political bias in favor of being the first paper with ‘the story’. Throughout the scene, Hildy and Walter combine scathing insults that are more endearing than insulting (as they are delivered with sly grins and knowing smiles that intonate this is an old game for them; almost like inside jokes but keenly executed in a way that lets the audience in on them) with body language that speaks of an old intimacy (both are comfortable with such close proximities as sitting shoulder to shoulder on a desk while bitterly reminiscing about their failed honeymoon) and a continual pacing around the office, needlessly fiddling—Hildy reapplies lipstick, Walter fixes his tie, they smoke another cigarette, Hildy moves to occupy another space, checks the mirror, Walter follows, etc.; this is possibly the only implication that after four months they are nervous to be around each other/see each other but is more realistically a form of habit from careers spent waiting around for something exciting to happen. Perhaps it is a combination of both. In any event, all the facets of their interaction blend together to create this captivating routine. If this film were a dance it would be a fusion of the quickstep and the tango (author’s note: quango!). Regardless, Walter and Hildy utilize the office space in a much more meaningful way than just flowing aesthetics.
After multiple viewings of this scene, Hawks vision runs deeper than a man and a woman that attract conflict and tend to interrupt each other. In fact, this scene is not a happy quango. The entire scene is Walter and Hildy vying for control of space, thus control of the situation, thus control of the other. Hildy enters, calm, collected, and ready to be in control of the space despite it being Walter’s office. She is this way because she knows she has to be around the likes of Walter, who sniffs out peoples’ uncertainties and manipulates the situations into his favor, and also because she has some heavy bombs (engagement, early retirement, decision to explore a normal life) to drop on him that she is sure will waver his assumed superiority. Walter, on the other hand, competes for control because they are on his turf and, as a newspaper editor, he is used to easily engineering social interaction to his advantage. How they bring these goals to the screen without explicitly saying all this is Hawks’ direction—overlapping lines, cutting each other off, speaking louder than the other, trying to get one another to lose their cool (which Walter achieves a few times, notably when he claims he was ‘tight’ when he proposed and if she ‘had been a gentleman’ by not mentioning it the next morning, they would not have been married where in response, Hildy chucks her bag at him and he insults her further by saying she has bad aim), forcing the other to face them, and touching each other in commanding styles. Walter seems to be the winner for most of the unaddressed battles most likely because he has a motive—a goal—to be in control for, whereas Hildy just has information to slowly reveal. Walter’s motive is to either (or both) convince Hildy to stay at the newspaper and re-marry him.
However, Hildy may not be as good-intentioned as she appears. They are both “newspapermen” after all. Upon first encounter with Walter and Hildy, with their childlike one-upmanship and squabbles, one may think Hildy is making the correct choice in wanting to marry Bruce and retire from this business, that they are not good for each other. And yet, there is some truth (perhaps the only truth spoken from any-means-necessary Walter Burns) when he pleads, “We’ve got something between us nothing can change”. Hildy and Walter have more similarities than differences; it is only Hildy’s demand to live a normal life with a respectable husband that keeps them from being together. Hildy wants to go someplace “where she can be a woman,” with boring Bruce Baldwin but she does not act like a woman even as she is saying it, and whenever she talks about Bruce to Walter, the vibe that she emits is one of pure fantasy, a vague smile and a dreamy look in her eyes; a too-good-to-be-true countenance for a former pressroom journalist. Bruce Baldwin also happens to conveniently be Walter Burns’ antonym and she does not hold back from telling him so. Hildy is visibly most comfortable and excited when she is in the pressroom, playing poker and smoking cigarettes with the fellas, with her hat tipped back and tongue extra sharp, the only thing separating the guys from her is a pair of heels. Perhaps I am reading too deeply into a screwball comedy, but I have an inkling that Hildy is just as mischievous as Walter and she has been stringing the oblivious Baldwin along to help her scheme pan out—to make Walter jealous and change his ways when he sees how serious she is about Bruce and the retirement; the ‘scare’ of losing her to Bruce would straighten him out and perhaps get him to treat her decently. Another observation that supports this theory is the fact that Hildy ever even went to visit Walter, as she knows his personality and if she ever had the intention of retiring to Albany with Bruce she would have done so without contacting Walter. Near the end of the movie, she and Walter make a charmingly moral-less team while she does not seem to mind that Bruce is gone and has a terribly phony sob-fest in a last ditch effort to get Walter to treat her right (although she pays no mind to treating Bruce like last week’s dinner).
Regardless of that rather wordy interlude, the scene contains the DNA of Hawks’ vision because despite the rather dark content of the plot (murder, suicide, political corruption, execution, jaded view of humanity), the story is of two former lovers overcoming their differences by working together and both ultimately achieving their goal. This one scene encompasses what the legacy of Howard Hawk’s His Girl Friday is—quick thinking, fast-talking witty repartee between Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. One can view it as superficially as that, admire it for its timelessness or humor, or analyze it until one comes up with inane conspiracies about the moral fiber of a fictional female lead.

-Stella Blue, 3/2009, A-!

Bittasweet

"I dedicate this record, "The Carnival" to all you brothers takin' long
trips down south
Virginia, Baltimore, all around the world
and your girl gets this message that you ain't comin' back.
She's sittin' back in her room, the lights are off, she's cryin'
And then my voice comes in
POW!, in the middle of the night, and this is what I told her for you..."

Milk

just came back from seeing Milk with my sister. james franco was fantastic. i love watching the development of his career. i didnt like diego lunas character, he wasn't really developed well in a film full of wonderfully developed characters. this movie will stay with me-- it really captured the force of san francisco.

haven't been writing much, too much shit going on to pause and reflect upon. four days into 2009....already a crazy fucking year. i turned 21 though, guess i can go out to bars.

dunno.