Today I received my acceptance letter into Green Mountain College in Poultney Vermont. As the old Mike Tyson mock goes, "Hee, hee! I'm ecstatic!"
I had been attending Essex County College in Newark, nj, but this Southern California boy wasn't feeling the vibe. I don't want to shit on the school, but I was not impressed by their general quality. Definitely nowhere to be for liberal arts. They are an excellent choice for those starting out on an engineering or mathematics based education who do not have the time or financial means to be full-time students, with NJIT and Rutgers, two very good NJ schools, in close proximity both physically and departmentally.
Anywhooze...
I'll be in Vermont by the end of January, right after spending New Years in Amsterdam, with side trips to Paris and Belgium.
Fookin' Lovely, mate. I can dig it.
Just found out Pimp C of U.G.K. died at the Mondrian in Los Angeles. They don't know how or why yet. My condolences.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
So Much Goes On, So Much To Say
While I'm at it I'd like to jabber about a few things.
Last few films I've seen have been a mixed bag, a Santa Claus class oversized burlap sack of jumbled selection and psylocibin fueled inner feeling.
Saw No Country For Old Men in Oregon its first week of release after having consumed at least an eighth of fungus mushed into one and a half chocolate, coconut, and almond goo balls. Fucking delicious. The balls and the balls-out film based on the epically exceptional novel, which I'd previously devoured, by Cormac McCarthy, one of our best American writers. Fucking Josh Brolin as cowboy boy scout Llewellyn Moss, Woody-Wood Harrelson as the doomed schmuck freelancer, Javier Bardem as a clammy-skinned existential nightmare personified...well god damn! Got there late and stumbled in to the front section of the theatre as above our heads Mr. Bardem used gravity and hand cuffs to open up a deputies throat. Amazing.
As the movie progressed I kept thinking it should have been called "Tommy Lee Jones Face." But maybe that was just the everlovin' shrooms had me goin'. How can a 61 year old man carry so much life in his face? He must be a reincarnated slave.
Saw The Mist and Fred Claus yesterday. Someone else's birthday wish. Don't ask why.
Love the story of The Mist. One of my favorite King novellas. Liked the treatment. The cheesy effects made me push it off until later, but I had to see it. Well played. Darabont made another well-crafted film. The human drama upon which the story hinges is classic and chillingly realistic. The differing ending from the novella is definitely more visceral and filmic, but felt a little rushed. Overall a fucking upward thumb, Ebert.
Fred Claus, on the other hand, sent my mind spiralling off into all manner of miffed postmodern queries. This whole perennial christmas myth just digs beneath my skin like a toucan sam-nose chigger. Why oh Why must It endure, must we endure It? I'm not jaded, I'm just stupid tired of the same old rusty saw, the recurring bland and unimaginative caucasian classicals. I would question the sanity of all participants involved if I were less savvy to the economic draw, and less aware of our status as a stubbornly veiled and bleary-eyed Christian Nation. I'm just complaining aloud, upholding my right to bemoan the boredom engine-- now fueled with ethanol!
That said Paul Giamatti was great as St. Nick, Vince Vaughn was Vince Vaughn, and Kevin Spacey is Lex Luthor and Superman.
Ponderous.
p.s. check out FunnyOrDie.com There be funny shit in them thar pages.
Last few films I've seen have been a mixed bag, a Santa Claus class oversized burlap sack of jumbled selection and psylocibin fueled inner feeling.
Saw No Country For Old Men in Oregon its first week of release after having consumed at least an eighth of fungus mushed into one and a half chocolate, coconut, and almond goo balls. Fucking delicious. The balls and the balls-out film based on the epically exceptional novel, which I'd previously devoured, by Cormac McCarthy, one of our best American writers. Fucking Josh Brolin as cowboy boy scout Llewellyn Moss, Woody-Wood Harrelson as the doomed schmuck freelancer, Javier Bardem as a clammy-skinned existential nightmare personified...well god damn! Got there late and stumbled in to the front section of the theatre as above our heads Mr. Bardem used gravity and hand cuffs to open up a deputies throat. Amazing.
As the movie progressed I kept thinking it should have been called "Tommy Lee Jones Face." But maybe that was just the everlovin' shrooms had me goin'. How can a 61 year old man carry so much life in his face? He must be a reincarnated slave.
Saw The Mist and Fred Claus yesterday. Someone else's birthday wish. Don't ask why.
Love the story of The Mist. One of my favorite King novellas. Liked the treatment. The cheesy effects made me push it off until later, but I had to see it. Well played. Darabont made another well-crafted film. The human drama upon which the story hinges is classic and chillingly realistic. The differing ending from the novella is definitely more visceral and filmic, but felt a little rushed. Overall a fucking upward thumb, Ebert.
Fred Claus, on the other hand, sent my mind spiralling off into all manner of miffed postmodern queries. This whole perennial christmas myth just digs beneath my skin like a toucan sam-nose chigger. Why oh Why must It endure, must we endure It? I'm not jaded, I'm just stupid tired of the same old rusty saw, the recurring bland and unimaginative caucasian classicals. I would question the sanity of all participants involved if I were less savvy to the economic draw, and less aware of our status as a stubbornly veiled and bleary-eyed Christian Nation. I'm just complaining aloud, upholding my right to bemoan the boredom engine-- now fueled with ethanol!
That said Paul Giamatti was great as St. Nick, Vince Vaughn was Vince Vaughn, and Kevin Spacey is Lex Luthor and Superman.
Ponderous.
p.s. check out FunnyOrDie.com There be funny shit in them thar pages.
First and Foremost
Hello and how the hell'r ya?
This is my blogging beginning but I assure you it will not end anytime soon. In the interest of becoming a part of the Great Human Discussion I would like to toss my hat in, put my nuts on the table, scrape my tattooed skin off and hang it up on display for all to see and select or refuse. Hello and how the hell'r ya?
My name is Dixon Fears. I am a writer and a student. I harbor tempered but still obsessive love for films, sports, culture, society, ideas, and the intersections where these ideas meet and meld, slam into each other and explode, slide up to each other and exchange, careen into each other's paths and ricochet off, either back to whence they came, or off into some other ideas membrane. I'm 27 and often feel overmatched by it all.
But, shit, here I am.
Let the flames begin.
This is my blogging beginning but I assure you it will not end anytime soon. In the interest of becoming a part of the Great Human Discussion I would like to toss my hat in, put my nuts on the table, scrape my tattooed skin off and hang it up on display for all to see and select or refuse. Hello and how the hell'r ya?
My name is Dixon Fears. I am a writer and a student. I harbor tempered but still obsessive love for films, sports, culture, society, ideas, and the intersections where these ideas meet and meld, slam into each other and explode, slide up to each other and exchange, careen into each other's paths and ricochet off, either back to whence they came, or off into some other ideas membrane. I'm 27 and often feel overmatched by it all.
But, shit, here I am.
Let the flames begin.
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