Square eyes
Mr. M-mv and I watched Devil's Playground yesterday afternoon. While it was not nearly as disturbing as Jesus Camp (which, as I've mentioned before, is a horror movie masquerading as a documentary), it did make both of us a little — for lack of a better adjective — uncomfortable. Yes, the images of Amish teenagers attending what amounts to rave parties fueled by copious amounts of alcohol, drugs, and bad music are, as one reviewer describes it, "jarring," but it was the reminder that if a child returns to his church community following rumspringa (and ninety percent do), he is, in effect, denying his sense of self: Amish religious convictions are predicated on the erasure of self.
SHUDDER.
We watched Compulsion last weekend. That Orson Welles was brilliant is indisputable, so why isn't his understated portrayal of Jonathan Wilk better known? It was perfection. (Aside: Surely, Welles is Vincent D'Onofrio's greatest influence, right? Has anyone ever asked him that, I wonder? Added later: Ah, yes. I remember. D'Onofrio played Welles in Ed Wood. This, of course, is not proof of any sort, but it does lend a hint of credibility to my musing, no?) Compulsion, a 1959 film, is a fictionalized account of the infamous Leopold-Loeb case; the Wilk character is based on Clarence Darrow. And, yes, watching the film led to two titles now on my nightstand: Leopold and Loeb: Crime of the Century (Hal Higdon) and Clarence Darrow for the Defense (Irving Stone), the latter of which I acquired for less than a dollar at our local used book store.
And this afternoon, Mr. and I will watch a biography of Jackson Pollock (related entries here and here). Next weekend, we've decided to watch Pollock.
Speaking of the nightstand...
(And I was, a paragraph or two ago.) During swim season and two deadlines, an unwieldy stack of magazines had accumulated both there and on the trunk at the foot of our bed. After music lessons yesterday, I spent some time flipping through the "easier" titles (e.g., Prevention and Entertainment Weekly). Today I hope to catch up on Smithsonian and National Geographic. (If you're interested in our subscriptions, visit this display in our store.)
What else? The Misses and I are reading The Penderwicks (Jeanne Birdsall) together. Beautiful. And I'm glad I waited until they were a little older. They will remember this well.
Master and I are still making our way sloooowly through The Story of Art (E.H. Gombrich). Wonderful. Master also recently read The Sparrow (Maria Doria Russell), The Long Walk (Slavomir Rawicz), and Gotcha! Tales from a Black-Belt Bounty Hunter (Joseph Laney, Cyn Mobley), the latter of which is not great or even "all right" literature, but it was an entertaining poolside read for a certain black-belt-turned-lifeguard.
There are more titles for all of us but not enough time left in my morning. Next time, then.
Gratitude
Amazon's switch to monthly disbursements has found me thanking you more freqently — three times as frequently as years past, in fact. Well, let me thank you, then, for the following:
And thank you to the smart women who maintain Magnificent Octopus, Pages Turned, The Sheila Variations, Surface-Mined, Book Moot, and Semicolon. Many of the email messages I receive are from folks thanking me for book and movie recommendations. Well, when I exhaust my own devices for uncovering worthwhile titles, you six represent my most reliable sources of recommendations and inspiration, so thank you.
Question
Some of you wondered about Master's tuition bill. Why are you paying it? a few have asked, referring to this post. Again, Master is a high school senior. The family-centered learning project is an all-expenses-paid package; in other words, we will pay for any college classes our students tackle birth through high school graduation. In fact, so excited are the Misses M-mv by the idea that they can take college courses at fourteen that they have already talked about what courses they may choose and how this will set them up to have a college degree by the time they complete high school.
Smart girls.
Mr. M-mv and I will not, on the other hand, accept responsibility for their tuition bills after high school graduation. But these are bright kids. They have already realized that the key is to do well in their studies from the beginning and take college courses while in high school. They also know that if they attend an in-state school, they will have no room and board concerns.
It's all good, folks.
Practice does not make perfect.
It doesn't. At least, practice does not make my pieces perfect. Practice does, however, make me happy, and it renders my pieces recognizable and, later, expressive. This gives me joy.
As the recital drew near, we set aside most of our extra pieces to focus on preparation for the performance and slow but steady progress in our lesson books. "Moonlight Sonata," therefore, was untouched for two months. In the last lesson before the recital, though, we tugged it free from the music bag and began work on it afresh. Two pages of it are now mine — recognizable and expressive. How remarkable is that?
Read. Think. Learn.
Practice.
SHUDDER.
We watched Compulsion last weekend. That Orson Welles was brilliant is indisputable, so why isn't his understated portrayal of Jonathan Wilk better known? It was perfection. (Aside: Surely, Welles is Vincent D'Onofrio's greatest influence, right? Has anyone ever asked him that, I wonder? Added later: Ah, yes. I remember. D'Onofrio played Welles in Ed Wood. This, of course, is not proof of any sort, but it does lend a hint of credibility to my musing, no?) Compulsion, a 1959 film, is a fictionalized account of the infamous Leopold-Loeb case; the Wilk character is based on Clarence Darrow. And, yes, watching the film led to two titles now on my nightstand: Leopold and Loeb: Crime of the Century (Hal Higdon) and Clarence Darrow for the Defense (Irving Stone), the latter of which I acquired for less than a dollar at our local used book store.
Jonathan Wilk: In those years to come, you might find yourself asking if it wasn't the hand of god dropped these glasses... And if he didn't, who did?One of the trailers on the Compulsion DVD was for The St. Valentine's Day Massacre, a 1967 film about the struggle between Al Capone and Bugs Moran to dominate the booming bootleg business that defined Chicago in the twenties. Master M-mv, a history buff of sorts, has a particular interest in this period of the city's history. He was delighted to learn that Mr. and I scheduled a 5'7" and up film and snacks evening to view this movie.
And this afternoon, Mr. and I will watch a biography of Jackson Pollock (related entries here and here). Next weekend, we've decided to watch Pollock.
Speaking of the nightstand...
(And I was, a paragraph or two ago.) During swim season and two deadlines, an unwieldy stack of magazines had accumulated both there and on the trunk at the foot of our bed. After music lessons yesterday, I spent some time flipping through the "easier" titles (e.g., Prevention and Entertainment Weekly). Today I hope to catch up on Smithsonian and National Geographic. (If you're interested in our subscriptions, visit this display in our store.)
What else? The Misses and I are reading The Penderwicks (Jeanne Birdsall) together. Beautiful. And I'm glad I waited until they were a little older. They will remember this well.
Master and I are still making our way sloooowly through The Story of Art (E.H. Gombrich). Wonderful. Master also recently read The Sparrow (Maria Doria Russell), The Long Walk (Slavomir Rawicz), and Gotcha! Tales from a Black-Belt Bounty Hunter (Joseph Laney, Cyn Mobley), the latter of which is not great or even "all right" literature, but it was an entertaining poolside read for a certain black-belt-turned-lifeguard.
There are more titles for all of us but not enough time left in my morning. Next time, then.
Gratitude
Amazon's switch to monthly disbursements has found me thanking you more freqently — three times as frequently as years past, in fact. Well, let me thank you, then, for the following:
As You Like It (pre-ordered)This leaves me with a pleasant balance for any whims that strike in August (because it seems so unlikely that I will manage to hang onto the remaining amount until the end of August when associates are paid again). So, again, thank you to all of you who make your purchases through Mental multivitamin.
Hamlet (pre-ordered)
The Story of Science, Book Three: Einstein Adds a New Dimension (Joy Hakim)
Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky (Patrick Hamilton; this one is winging its way here from a third-party seller in the UK)
And thank you to the smart women who maintain Magnificent Octopus, Pages Turned, The Sheila Variations, Surface-Mined, Book Moot, and Semicolon. Many of the email messages I receive are from folks thanking me for book and movie recommendations. Well, when I exhaust my own devices for uncovering worthwhile titles, you six represent my most reliable sources of recommendations and inspiration, so thank you.
Question
Some of you wondered about Master's tuition bill. Why are you paying it? a few have asked, referring to this post. Again, Master is a high school senior. The family-centered learning project is an all-expenses-paid package; in other words, we will pay for any college classes our students tackle birth through high school graduation. In fact, so excited are the Misses M-mv by the idea that they can take college courses at fourteen that they have already talked about what courses they may choose and how this will set them up to have a college degree by the time they complete high school.
Smart girls.
Mr. M-mv and I will not, on the other hand, accept responsibility for their tuition bills after high school graduation. But these are bright kids. They have already realized that the key is to do well in their studies from the beginning and take college courses while in high school. They also know that if they attend an in-state school, they will have no room and board concerns.
It's all good, folks.
Practice does not make perfect.
It doesn't. At least, practice does not make my pieces perfect. Practice does, however, make me happy, and it renders my pieces recognizable and, later, expressive. This gives me joy.
As the recital drew near, we set aside most of our extra pieces to focus on preparation for the performance and slow but steady progress in our lesson books. "Moonlight Sonata," therefore, was untouched for two months. In the last lesson before the recital, though, we tugged it free from the music bag and began work on it afresh. Two pages of it are now mine — recognizable and expressive. How remarkable is that?
Read. Think. Learn.
Practice.
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