Chasing Pirates

That title has nothing to do with anything, except the fact that I'm listening to "Chasing Pirates" by Norah Jones, who I am going to marry.

George Washington Statue in Boston Common

Saturday I joined a handful of ward members for a photo scavenger hunt.  It started at the Boston Common.  I was in a group with Molly (awesome), Chad (dating Molly), Annie (engaged to the EQP), and Aubrey (kinda boring).  We had a really good time and I got to see a lot of Boston that I hadn't seen yet, including the public library, the Trinity Church, and the far side of the Common.  I have a lot of exploring to do yet.  The leaves are finally starting to change in Boston and they are absolutely gorgeous.  All I need now is a sunny day so my crappy camera can capture the colors.

What else has been going on?  Um...today at 3:00 Sophie, Langston and I headed over to the Lamont Library Poetry Room at Harvard.  They had a presentation of recordings by the New York School poets, among whom is my favorite, Frank O'Hara.  There were quite a few good poems that I hadn't heard yet, and the best one that was new to me was "One Train May Hide Another" by Kenneth Koch.  It's my favorite poem of the week.  There were quite a few people there and free candy, and after the recordings there was a fifteen minute documentary-style movie of Frank O'Hara reading his poetry and walking around NYC.  Good times.  After it was over we met Nick and Lisa over at Mr. Bartley's.  I got "The Democrat."  So the burgers I've tried are (in order of deliciousness):

1. The Viagra
2. The Tom Brady
3. The Democrat
4. The Hillary Clinton

Speaking of food:

Coolest Pizza Box Ever

I recently tried out the pizza place just down the street.  It's called Pizzeria Dante, and although I had to pay $15.75 for a two-topping pizza, it was worth it.  Best pizza so far.  So when you all come to visit me, we can go there.  And to Mr. Bartley's.  Because there are a ton of burgers there still to try. 

And now I leave you with one more picture of the beautiful city I live in:

Been A Long Time. Shouldn't Have Left You, Without A Dope Beat To Step To (Step To, Step To)

Whatups world?

Been a crazy week.  After my last post I had a paper and a presentation due in Shakespearen Tragedy in Film to finish.  I wrote and presented on Grigori Kozintsev's movie Hamlet.  It's a Soviet film and it is phenomenal.  I watched it like three times.  It was filmed in black and white in a way only Russians could do it and he took out religion almost completely.  SO good.

Friday TJ, Dan, Nick, and I jumped in TJ's car and went to Morgan's house.  Morgan is one of the fiction writers in the program and since she doesn't know anybody (admittedly we poets kinda keep to ourselves) she decided to have everybody over.  It was a lot of fun.  I hung out in the kitchen and watched Morgan's Russian boyfriend Ivan (who had an awesome blond mane and used to be a bartender in a speakeasy) mixing drinks.  Once they busted out the weed I moved to the front room and spent the last little bit hanging out in there.  We've got some cool people in the program.  I remember Andrew and Charles the most because Andrew is one of those guys you know every girl is gonna be in love with (Sophie admitted being in love with him till finding out he has a girlfriend) and Charles is obsessed with Cuba, which is funny because Nick just wrote a poem called "Cuba" which isn't about Cuba but about a Brazilian man that Nick worked with in a butcher shop.  I won't scar you with the actual subject matter of "Cuba" but know that it is absolutely terrible and horrendously hilarious.  It helps that I think Nick is one of the funniest people ever, especially once he's got one or two in him.  Anyways, TJ was a very dedicated designated driver and got us all home safe and sound.

Then I spent all day Saturday with one of the greatest people walking this planet: 

Laura Domenica Marostica

We met at the Boston Common at noon and spent the day seeing sights.  We walked part of the Freedom Trail, I showed her Mother Goose's grave, we went to Quincy Market, I showed her campus, then we went to Mr. Bartley's burger place (I got the Tom Brady, she got the Guy Fieri), then we went to the Grolier Poetry Bookshop, checked out Harvard,  went back to Quincy Market to buy giant cookies, went shopping (yay for a female second opinion), and went to see Wall Street (which, besides the fact that half of the stock market jargon made no sense to us, wasn't too bad).  Then we went to church on Sunday and she headed off.

Then I spent most of this week's free time working on my midterm paper for Contemporary American Poetry.  I wrote about Frank O'Hara's use of color as a means of creating separation, specifically in "Why I Am Not A Painter" and "A Step Away From Them."  I'm sure you don't care, but I kinda do.  Well...not really.  It was just the only poet we've gone over in class so far that I really love.  Today I found out that for my extra graduate-level final project I can do some translations from English into Portuguese.  I ran that by Bonnie today after class and she thought it would be cool.  Plus I'd only have to do one poem, so if I choose the right person and the right poem it could potentially be (relatively) easy.  Then again, I always give myself too much credit.  If nothing else, I'm still loving homework this semester.

So, yeah, that's kinda it.  Tomorrow I'm working in the creative writing office with Caroline and then headed down into the dungeon to work on Agni with Bill (who is awesome, by the way.  Greatest internship ever).  Other than that it's gonna be a weekend of sleep, cold medicine, and writing.  I love my life.

The Broken Beard

It's gone.  So sad.
Not only did I write the most depressing poem of my career today, I also had to shave.
I can see my face.  I look like a baby and it's SO COLD!
As promised, here are the final stages:

"L'artiste Fou" (That's not a Snuggie.  It's a towel.  Much more classy.)

"The Good Old Boy"

"The Naked" (Ok, ok, I was wearing flip-flops)

It was a good run and I'm not sad it's over; I'm happy it happened.  But there's one especially beautiful thing about facial hair:  when you wake up in the morning, it's always there.  And that's all you really need.

Huzzah.

Breaking the Beard (Warning: Awesome photos)

I dedicate this post to Mary Carlisle, who never discouraged my mustache-growing capabilities.

I can't believe it's October.
It's been a quiet week.  Nothing of note since Brad peaced out.
Conference was phenomenal.  Been a while since I got so much out of it.
I made and surpassed my goal of growing out a beard for a month.
I gotta say, I'm impressed; and I'm hard to impress.  (Hey look!  A blue car!)
It's been a lot of fun, but I'm kinda over it.
So here's pictures of me slowly (but surely) getting rid of the beard:

"The Convict"

"The Lion Tamer"

"The Colonel" (aka "The Wrangler," when wearing brown)

"El Desperado"

Personally, I love "El Desperado".  It's still on my face, because (1) it is hilarious, (2) it drives the ladies crazy, (3) why would you not want something on your face called "El Desperado"?

I have plans for future versions.  One I wanna call one "L'artiste" and I'm lookin at possibilities like "The Good Old Boy" or maybe even a Fu Manchu.  The possibilites are endless. Kinda.