Saturday, May 26, 2007
WS201 Presentations
Yesterday a student did a fabulous presentation
on Lesie Hall, counter culture via the web, and Glam Fashion:
http://www.atomfilms.com/film/leslie_gem_sweater.jsp
It may work better on YouTube, but I can't get this out of my head.
BTW, she has a BA (if not MA) from Boston University in Fine Arts.
Friday, May 25, 2007
DOWN with the US Postal Service!
I tried to support them--but nooo!
I don't pay by web--but that will change!
University: SQ, where is student 00001234's lesson?
Me: I mailed it 05/05.
4 days later
Dr. K's Office: Uh . . . when are you going to pay your co-payment?
Me: I mailed 05/05.
Tim Hortons: That will be 2.25 for your morning coffee.
Me: Ok, here's my VISA.
Tim Hortons: It's denied. Would you like me to try again and make a spectacle oy you?
Me: Yes, please do.
Tim Hortons: Still not taking it--why don't you go the next 8 hours w/o anything to eat or drink because you are out of town with only this lame VISA. Have a nice day.
Me: WTF??
For the past 18 monthes I have meticulously paid every single damnable bill on time . . .
9 hours later on an empty gut
Partner: Yeah, I dropped those in the mail.
Me: Magazine bills, phone bill, dental bill, 4, count them 4 credit cards! Do you know what the fees will be?! And then the fees to cancel the checks?
Partner: Yeah, I dropped those in the mail.
PostMaster (summarized): See, what can happen is someone will put a ring or keychain in an envelope and mess up the machine sorter. Everything is machine-ran. 20-30 pieces coming after that can get caught in the jam. Mutilated. Anyway, we can trace it. But it'll take about 6 weeks. Because of Hurricane Katrina (emphasis mine). Yeah, all the torn mail goes to Atlanta,GA. They have the only processing center in the nation authorized to open mail that is torn and to try to figure out where it needs to go.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Some Student Asks to Practice the Piano in the Music Room Where I Would Soon Teach
I at the dry erase, he at the grand.
I didn't know the chords, but the melody was deep.
Not 18 inches away, he struck the keys
and my lungs felt hollow, my bones solid enough.
I smeared the outline, the rubric, the expectations
onto the board;
he soon dribbled into a playful tune. Fleeting scales.
The brief intersection had passed
and he left.