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Pass me my green card, please. [May. 14th, 2008|10:42 pm]
I'm back from Toronto.

What did I miss?
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My last final exam paper ever! [May. 8th, 2008|01:14 pm]
Please, someone write my final for me.

I have to have it finished in 3 hours.


k, thanx.
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Darkness at the Heart of Our Relationship with Animals [May. 5th, 2008|06:06 pm]
Eight Belles' death shows dark side of horse racing
By Michael Rosenburg

Well, I don't know about you, but I sure won't watch the Preakness the same way now. Big Brown will go for the second leg of the Triple Crown, but my thoughts will be with the filly who should be challenging him.

Eight Belles is dead. She broke two ankles after finishing second in the Kentucky Derby, and since horses can't live after that kind of injury (for various reasons), she was euthanized on the track.

Eight Belles is dead. It is strangely appropriate that the second-place finisher is the one who died.

If Big Brown had broken his ankles after winning, he would have been the biggest story in America this morning. There would be many calls to rethink the sport of horse racing. There would be a national conversation about whether horse racing is a worthy sporting endeavor or unfit for a civilized society.

If a horse had broken his ankles after finishing last, it would have been one paragraph in newspaper stories — a footnote. Fans would not have paid much attention, because it would be easy to separate the death from the reason we watch the Kentucky Derby — to see who wins.

But when the second-place finisher breaks down and must be euthanized on the track, it becomes a nasty little thought that you can't get out of your head. You might just find yourself blocking it out and concentrating on the winner, but that will only bring guilt.

Why? Why do we put racehorses at risk for our own amusement? Where do we draw the line? I have done zero polling on this issue, but I suspect most people would agree with this statement:

It's OK to train horses to race but not OK to train dogs to fight, because the frequency of death and pain is much lower in horse racing.

Heck, that's how I have long felt. But what is an acceptable fatality rate? If Churchill Downs goes to an increasingly popular synthetic racing surface, which is believed to reduce injuries, will we feel better because we're doing something?

According to The New York Times, "Dr. Mary Scollay, a veterinarian at Calder Race Course, organized an equine injury reporting system for more than 30 tracks and has found that fatality rates have been lower on synthetic surfaces: 1.47 fatalities per 1,000 starts for synthetic surfaces against 2.03 per 1,000 for dirt tracks."

This is not just about horse racing. It cuts to the heart of our relationship with animals. It is a relationship that, for most of us, is steeped in denial.

Hunters love deer but also love to kill them. Chick-Fil-A cannily uses a cow as its spokesman — eat some chicken and you'll save the big lug. The quintessential American scene is the backyard barbecue, with slices of cow on the grill and the family dog playing catch. I'm not judging — I have two cats and eat meat. But try making sense of any of this.

Last summer, I joined most of the Western world in excoriating Michael Vick for his dogfighting operation. My feelings on Vick haven't changed. But I wonder, more than ever, about the level of outrage. Did we call Vick a thug so we would feel superior?

There is only one other major sport where we understand that the participants are risking death. That, of course, is auto racing, and it brings its own brand of denial. While we subconsciously tell ourselves that racehorses are just animals, we also tell ourselves that racecar drivers have a choice. They don't have to race. They choose to. It is a risk they are willing to take, and it seems almost un-American to try to stop them.

With horse racing, we pretend that it is perfectly normal for a horse to sprint 1¼ miles down a track with a jockey on her back and a whip in the jockey's hand.

In our minds, racehorses fall somewhere between Michael Vick's dogs and our own pets. They are there to entertain, but we fall in love with the best of them.

And when Barbaro or Eight Belles dies, we tell ourselves that nothing could have been done. The truth is that if nothing had been done, if no race had been held, then those horses would have lived.

We don't like to admit that. We'd prefer to think that these deaths are part of life instead of just a part of racing. We say that Eight Belles was "euthanized," as though we did her a favor.

But on the official Web site of the Kentucky Derby, the death of Eight Belles was neatly squeezed into a single sentence, in the fifth paragraph of a story about Big Brown's historic win.

Some favor.


----------

I wonder what anyone else thinks of this. Because I think he managed to say a whole lot here.
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"There's always that delicate moment...." [May. 3rd, 2008|06:24 pm]
Screw horse racing. I'm done.

Shame on me.

And in case you missed it, since the media is being very quiet about it, your second-place Derby winner, Eight Belles, broke her two front ankles and collapsed before she could even pull up, and was subsequently immediately euthanized.

But they only care that the favorite won.
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Pyro Maniac!: Dwight Rallies Against Racing [May. 3rd, 2008|04:32 pm]
"You know what runs faster than a horse? Every car ever made...ever. I don't care about the Kentucky Derby, get back to me when they have a horse race...with cars."

-- Dwight Schrute


I hope Pyro wins!

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Digital Camera Death [May. 1st, 2008|02:22 pm]
Also of note:

My Canon PowerShot A80 (4 megapixels, from like, 2003) is pretty much broken. The photos it takes are now compromised by a warped line at the top and color distortion in the background. I cannot exist without a camera...

What do you people think, do you have digital cameras (non-SLR, that will come at a time when there's money) that you love/hate?

The great things about my camera were the manual settings and the general photo quality was nice. The bad things were that it performed poorly in low light (I've seen newer canons do much better on automatic even), it had bad shutter lag (which is prevalent in the PowerShot series) and it wasn't all that small, which isn't the worst problem. I definitely want a camera that has manual use options as well as automatic. I think the PowerShots are great in general, mine surely saw a lot of use and abuse and has taken countless gigs of photos for me... but the shutter lag does bug me sometimes.

I'm also not looking to spend a lot of money.
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Tribeca Patience [May. 1st, 2008|11:20 am]
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I think I'm going to hit up one of the Tribeca Film Festival theaters on Saturday and just wait in the Rush Ticket lines to see what I can get into. I've never done that before, I would always have at least some tickets ahead of time, but I figure it might be fun, as long as I'm armed with my mp3 player and the new Vanity Fair. The festival's been extra-crowded and sold-out this year though, so I'm not sure how it's going to play out.

If anyone wants to do this with me, let me know. I doubt it though :)
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Panic in the Streets; and So the Strangers Meet [Apr. 30th, 2008|09:26 pm]
Overheard in New York, circa 14th St @ 6th Ave.:

"Oh MY God, the fucking PATH train is CLOSED. I have to go ALL the way down to the World Trade Center to get home now--do you know how fucking FAR THAT IS?? I have to take the WTC Train to Hoboken now, and I have to take a SUBWAY to get there. I can't BELIEVE this, god FUCK ME."
-- Annoyingly 20-something girl in boring trendy outfit on cell phone

"Damn it, I broke a fingernail."
-- Slightly charming stranger walking beside me


Yes, there was a fire on Christopher Street that caused the 33rd Street line of the PATH system to be shut down all afternoon/evening. I found this out on my way to class, but was honestly surprised to see service had not been restored by the time my class was finished. I mouthed the word "Fuck" when I saw the station at 14th closed, but shrugged it off and began to walk the two blocks East towards the subway station that would get me to the World Trade Center, the other PATH line that went to Hoboken.

The girl cursing up a storm behind me was incredibly annoying--you'd think someone stole her puppy, her baby, and then said her ass looked fat. She was carrying on like a lunatic while more or less everyone walking near her down 14th Street was encountering the same problem. No one else was screaming or crying about it. Well, except for the charming man next to me.

I couldn't help but giggle at his comment, and he caught my eye. "Honestly," he says. "This happens all the freaking time, why is she so surprised."

And that's how I made a new friend who offered to show me the quickest way to the WTC PATH station. He was around my age, pretty attractive actually, and told me to follow him home, or at least to the PATH station, where he'd have to get on the Newark line to catch his train to his part of Jersey. Turns out he's an audio engineer and researcher with a prior background in musical theater and a geeky love for music. Some of his flirtations were a bit off-putting because I'm too shy to really take to brazen hitting-on, but he asked if I wanted to wait out the commuter crisis with him over drinks. I declined, and for a moment he considered riding to Hoboken with me but then decided against it because both train lines were extremely packed.

He did offer me his sunglasses as we walked down the street against the sun glare though, and he did make me go home with his phone number. He was witty and sarcastic and told me I sounded like a mouse; "You're adorable," he said.

This was like one of those I Love New York moments in the movies. Ah well. It's nice to know I'm not existing in a bubble shield that keeps humanity 10 feet away from me at all times.
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Waiting to Exhale: [Apr. 30th, 2008|01:20 am]
"If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then grief is the door. As long as it's closed, it's the barrier between knowing and not knowing. Walk away from it and it stays closed forever, but open it and walk through it...and pain becomes truth."

--Dexter Morgan, Dexter
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Matthew Modine on Stanley Kubrick [Apr. 28th, 2008|07:34 pm]
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* A friend of mine gave me an old Roloflex camera and said if I learned how to use this camera, it could be something to break the ice with Stanley. And so I taught myself how to use the Roloflex, which is a beautiful camera. I thought it was the camera that you took to the moon but I think you guys took a different one... and the first thing Stanley said when he saw this old camera that I had was "what are you doing with that old piece of shit." And he told me which camera to buy if I wanted to take pictures on set, which lenses to buy, all the way down to the camera strap and the camera bag.





* There was one time when we'd done a lot of takes, several dozen takes, so I decided maybe in the middle of the scene to pick up a bottle of water and take a drink. And we finished and Stanley came over and said, "What was that?" I said, "What"? He said, "In the middle of the scene you picked up the bottle of water and you drank water." I said "yeah, well I figured you didn't like the several other dozen takes that I did so I thought I'd try something different."

He said "oh, that was a choice. That's what actors call a choice." So I said "Yeah, I made a choice, I made a choice to drink water."

He said "Oh good, let's do it again, and do your choice."

We did that several times, and several dozen takes of me drinking the water, and Stanley came over to me and said, "You know that thing you're doing with the water... don't do it."





* I have a story about Stanley. We were driving to work one day, and we were angry at each other about something. So I said "Hey, Stanley, I finally figured out what 2001 was about." And he said, "Oh, yeah?" And I said "Yeah: You're born, life sucks, and you die." And he got really mad at me and didn't speak to me for almost a week.


--Matthew Modine, in conversation at Tribeca Film Festival
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Wings of Aspiring. [Apr. 26th, 2008|11:58 pm]
So my conference presentation went pretty well. I had lunch with my professor afterwards who told me I did really well, despite the very last question of the session being a strange one aimed at me. I was asked why I felt it was important for Germans to seek an identity within a German culture, since the country is still very racist. I was fairly infuriated at that, but in the interest of seeming professional, I deflected and spoke about why identity is important.

I actually felt very comfortable fielding questions and sitting there with peers in discussion. One of my fellow panelists was a Phd candidate from the U. of Chicago who is working on an intriguing dissertation.

This whole sort of academic thing... I think I can really do it.
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All-consuming Fear. [Apr. 26th, 2008|10:09 am]
Thanks to the wonders of technology, I'm broadcasting live from the media themes conference.

I'll be making a fool of myself in approximately one hour.

If anyone wants to go out and consume massive amounts of alcohol this evening, please let me know.




Thank you.



P.s. I had a more appropriate user-icon for this, but since I didn't pay to renew my paid LJ account, I've just realized now that they've all disappeared. Bummer.

P.P.S. I am a coward.
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"When you see a picture, you don't see outside the frame." [Apr. 25th, 2008|01:16 am]
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Standard Operating Procedure
dir. Errol Morris

"I divide the photographs into three categories, roughly speaking. When Sabrina Harman first walks into the prison in 2003, she takes these pictures of a prisoner named Taxi Driver. There he is, stripped naked, panties on his head in some horrible stress position, food deprivation, sleep deprivation... they walk in on this, this is not something that they created. Sabrina takes a set of what I would describe as verite photographs, documentary photographs. Then the pictures change...the pictures I'd say, the second category, the pictures that actually have American soldiers in them along with prisoners, often the soldiers are posing in the pictures, smiling, thumbs up... and the third category is the strangest category of all, which is the photographs that have been created for the camera. In some sense these photographs were the reason why these things occurred. In other words, they were created so that someone could take a picture of them. Really interesting. The prisoner named Gus, Lynddie holding Gus on a leash. The picture of Gilligan standing on the box with wires...this is an amazing part of the story, the wires were put on so they could take the picture--click--and the wires are taken off. I sometimes describe it as the Cindy Sherman from hell... things that were created so that someone could take a picture. All very very very interesting."

What to really say about Morris' new film... I've included the above quote from his Q&A following the film at tonight's premiere, as well as another below, because his own words can probably describe the film better than I could. Standard Operating Procedure serves as perhaps his most powerful film in my opinion, one that dismisses the usual playful Morris-esque facial cutaways and instead carefully trains its eye on this twisty story of how photography played a key role in the Abu Ghraib convictions--a blame game that's made Morris position himself as "Outraged Citizen" before Filmmaker.

Featuring a parade of uncensored photos that somehow look different in this film than they did in the media, and penetrating interviews with key figures such as Lynddie England, Sabrina Harman, Tim Dugan, and Megan Ambuhl Graner, Morris uncovers a truth about Abu Ghraib that we as American citizens were too quick to ignore. We thought we saw the truth of Abu Ghraib in the horrifying photos, and as Morris points out, it ended there. A veteran maker of moving images, it is fitting that the role photography played in the Abu Ghraib 'scandal' sparked a curiosity in Morris that unsurprisingly led him on a journey that picked at a festering wound until the truth that existed beyond the photo frames began to bleed.

Morris is pissed off. And he's naming names.

Among some of those names are the camera makes and models that were used by three military personnel whose photos played an integral role in the Abu Ghraib scandal. The camera perhaps plays the largest role in this film of anyone. Standard Operating Procedure enters theaters today, Friday April 25. You'll probably have to do a little searching to find it near you, but it's worth the journey. We were all quick to judge what we saw in the media four years ago. Maybe now it's time to look a bit closer.




"You asked me another question... you said that you saw somewhere lurking in the wings, an outraged citizen, and you're absolutely correct, that is what you see. And here's one of the things that I'm really truly outraged by: The wrong people took the fall, and photography helped in this very very odd way. The best example I can give you is this picture of Sabrina Harman--thumbs up, big smile on her face, over the body of an Iraqi prisoner, al-Jamadi. I remember seeing the photograph.. the first time I saw this photograph, I thought, "she's a monster." There she is, juxtaposed with the body, gloating! She's implicated, obviously, maybe even responsible. What do I find out--I find out that al-Jamadi was killed by a CIA interrogator, and the entire brass of the prison was involved in covering up that murder, sneaking him out with an IV on a gurney...that's not just a couple of soldiers that planned this, everyone is involved! The colonel that runs the place! The top ranking military police, they're all involved! Then the question was, is Sabrina involved in the murder or the cover-up, and the answer is no! She got into that shower room and she took pictures, in her words, to show that the military is nothing but lies.

Another thing that you don't know from the movie, but you do know perhaps from the New Yorker or the book... Sabrina's father was a cop, her brother is a cop, she wanted to become a cop, and a forensic photographer. She joined the military so that she would have enough money to go to school. After taking the picture of the thumbs up, she went on to take over 20 detailed photographs of the body which can only be described as forensic pictures, pictures basically providing evidence of a crime. Here's where the outraged citizen comes in: the CIA interrogator who i believe killed al-Jamadi--we know his name! He has never never never been brought up on charges. Sabrina Harman spent a year in prison. I'm always a little baffled when people say they don't express remorse. They're angry! They're angry! The people who they know knew everything about this and were involved with this have never been held accountable, and it goes all the way to the top! It's wrong! It's deeply, deeply, deeply wrong. We looked at the photographs, we thought we knew everything there was to know about Abu Ghraib, we thought we understood everything that we needed to understand about Abu Ghraib. We understood little or nothing. Photographs reveal and conceal, they serve as an expose and as a cover-up. We saw a glimpse of Abu Ghraib and it stopped us dead in our tracks because we thought we had someone to blame."



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"The time has come to make things right..." [Apr. 23rd, 2008|02:52 pm]
I was upset this morning. I didn't have any hot water, and I was dealing with something that was bringing me down. The result was that I was running late for my meeting with my professor--an important meeting that my entire Fall semester was hinged on.

I hopped in the car and took off.

Here's the thing. It's immensely dangerous to drive around with Muse's "Knights of Cydonia" blasting when you are in a hurry. End result: my trip Hoboken, door-to-parking spot, was completed in 26 minutes.

I walked into my 1:30 appointment at 1:29.

--
My independent research project for the fall has been enthusiastically approved by my professor (who will be my project advisor and mentor). The paperwork has been signed and submitted to the department, and now I just wait for them to email me the registration number. My prof is actually excited about the project, and wants us to work towards publishing my paper in a journal and/or presenting it somewhere. An academic onward-and-upward is not out of the question.

I did a hatched-job to my paper that I'm presenting on Saturday. I'm not nearly done editing it, but I"m happy I'm able to see it with a perspective that is able to change it.

It's like they said... no one's gonna take me alive.


--
Tommorrow.....ERROL MORRIS! :]
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The Milk Expired :\ [Apr. 21st, 2008|11:09 am]
So I received an email that my LJ paid account expired.

This morning, my LJ experience still looks the same though. I don't see ads anywhere, my FList still looks the same.

No more polls though! :( I'll have to think this over.
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Can you tell me, is there something more to believe in or is this all there is? [Apr. 21st, 2008|02:25 am]
I'm terrified about Saturday. Even if it's not a Big Deal Thing. I don't really have anyone to help or support me. Even just the support would be nice, but having someone help me edit by listening to how my words read aloud would have helped.

Next week will mark six months since Bryan's death. And it seems everything he said to me on that last night was true.
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Look out, Werner! [Apr. 18th, 2008|01:31 am]
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Happy Birthday, [info]2bq! :)
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Oh bring back my Bobbie, to me. [Apr. 15th, 2008|09:09 pm]
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I received the sad news from the shelter today that Bobbie was put to sleep this morning. I had been sitting on an email that went out to the board about Bobbie's fate; the pain medicine for his legs had created an ulcer problem in his stomach and he wasn't eating normally. Being a 29-year-old horse as it was, we were to seriously discuss the practicality of treating him for the ulcers, because it would be a long painful recovery as well as an incredibly expensive one. Every time I sat down to respond to this email, I found that I couldn't--I couldn't really make a decision about it. I loved Bobbie when he first came to the shelter, so much that I used to sing to him. Once he had been moved out of the barn to live with Wyatt, I didn't see him as much anymore, and another of the volunteers had somewhat adopted him as her favorite. He received much love, and once in awhile I still sang to him when I went to switch his fields at lunch time.

As it happened, Bobbie's stomach ruptured and he took a severe turn for the worse. He was in much pain so the vet arrived to put him to sleep. This happened suddenly, I wasn't really prepared for it, and have felt incredibly sad all day. Bobbie was a beautiful animal, and a sweet horse. He never minded my singing.

This is the sort of thing I would call James up about, and he'd humor me and my sadness and try to comfort me or cheer me up. I think he understood, and never saw my sadness as silly or unwarranted. Few people can understand these things, or take them seriously. James seems to have pulled himself away from me and I don't even feel ok approaching him about this, or anything else right now. It doesn't look like I'll be visiting him, which breaks my heart.

I hate that I didn't say goodbye, but I have this image of the very last time I saw him burned in my brain.


Bobbie, October 2007.
You were beautiful, rest forever.
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Speechless [Apr. 14th, 2008|01:39 am]
Precious and fragile things
Need special handling
My God what have we done to You?

We always try to share
The tenderest of care
Now look what we have put You through...

Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give

Angels with silver wings
Shouldn't know suffering
I wish I could take the pain for You

If God has a master plan
That only He understands
I hope it's Your eyes He's seeing through

Things get damaged
Things get broken
I thought we'd manage
But words left unspoken
Left us so brittle
There was so little left to give

I pray You learn to trust
Have faith in both of us
And keep room in Your heart for two
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Feelings [Apr. 13th, 2008|02:33 pm]
One of the worst feelings in the world:

Having someone that claims to be a person on this earth that cares for you say, with a voice filled with nothing but annoyance, "we've already been on the phone for 40 minutes, I have to go."


A worse feeling than that, though not by much:

Knowing one of the horses at the shelter is sick but the financial hardship striking the rescue is making it difficult to justify spending so much money on one horse who is already 29, because the medication he needs will cost $30 a day. Let me know if someone's got $1800 lying around.


A not so bad feeling:

When you've become a Pokemon master and Kirby just kicks your ass once or twice. (Fortunately it felt pretty good to be Kirby.)
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