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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Brannog & Lot
Yes, indeed, it is wednesday, october 23 and it is a balmy 12:00 noon, here at the escape pods. I am planning an escape, too, from campus, when Max comes to pick me up and I, yet again, ditch my afternoon calculus lecture. I hate said lecture, but that is nothing unusual. I am going to go home and watch the incomparable Kenneth Branaugh (who my professor calls Kenneth Bran-og (hard G) for some reason known only to him)play the incomprehensible Hamlet. I don't actually like Branagh, but you have to admit that he is the only fool fool enough to think that an American movie viewing public which has been steadily fed a steady diet of Sly Stallone action and teenie bopper sugared sweetie flicks wants to see Shakespeare's Hamlet in all it's uncut glory. And, actually, the film probably does do better on the rental shelf given the number of college courses for which Hamlet is required reading and the number of college students who are bound and determined never to lay eyes on the printed word unless it is an advertisement for a Sly Stallone action flick. That would almost, but not quite, include me. Okay, I admit, I'm actually reading the play--and have read it before--but it helps to clarify what in the hell is going on when I watch the films. Besides, Shakespeare was meant to be performed, so it actually is better that way. I also have a short story due next week and I have decided to retell the story from Genesis about the destruction of sodom and gomorrah. Well, not exactly that story so much as the story of the mother who was turned to a pillar of salt and the two daughters who concieved children by Lot, their father. I'll let you know how that turns out.
More lies:
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