Thanks

21.02.2009

I am surprised and thankful to David Tidmarsh and the Yale Daily News for having chosen my presentation to illustrate “Study of the Superhero”, a short article on the conference at Yale University in which I recently participated. The picture caption misstates the title of my paper, but they got it right in the text.

Post-Theory

13.02.2009

Thirteen years later, David Bordwell and Noël Carroll’s book still packs quite a punch. I am re-reading it right now.

The Wanderer

11.02.2009

I do not know why, but the song that closes U2’s Zooropa resurfaced in my mind a few days ago. Bono’s words evoke powerful images and are unforgettable in Johnny Cash’s grieved voice:

I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold
Lifted some stones
Saw the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky
Where the ground won’t turn
And the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye
Yeah I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering

I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin
Where men can’t walk
Or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens like to sit
They say they want the kingdom
But they don’t want God in it

I went out riding
Down that old eight lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name

I went with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you

I went out there
In search of experience
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can
Before he repents

I went out searching
Looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break
Who would sit at his father's right hand
I went out walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one
Now Jesus, don't you wait up
Jesus, I’ll be home soon
Yeah I went out for the papers
Told her I’d be back by noon

Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you’d be there too
Looking for you

Yeah I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you

Homerism

07.02.2009

Television! Teacher, mother, secret lover.

—Homer Simpson