Tuesday, August 24, 2010

What I'm Learning in Iowa City #1 and #2

#1: A question in Biology.

I realize that this is a gross stereotype but why is it that so many football players have tiny heads and gigantic jaws?


#2: A question in sociology

Even only three hours away from Decorah I see more varied culture in Iowa City. For instance -- In five out of the five courses I have had so far (all film-related courses granted) a professor has had so something to say about or mentioned the recent Chris Nolan film Inception. I'd be hard pressed to find someone who gave a crap about Inception in Decorah. Who knew that this was a "controversial" or "polarizing" film?

Monday, August 23, 2010

Text for an acting performance

I found this in an old notebook and felt that it was worth saving. The following is what amounts to an inspired poem thingy which I wrote spring of 2009. The assignment was to draft a script of sorts or a "score" for a short acting performance in a class. I browsed through the large collection of books in the Luther library by title and then glancing through to see if there were any profound passages which could accidentally be discovered. I picked up “The Old South” by Ama Botemps and randomly flipped to Ch. 3 (Talk to the music). There I found my passage on which to base my score. It is heavily edited to make it seem more surreal, but there are a few lines which are lifted directly from the book's text. So here it is:

The sadness of her song
I wanted to ask who had hurt her
and why it was so hard
I don't think I'll ever know

With one arm she reached for her bottle
and with the other she played the rhythm
The rhythm played on its own for a while
Behind her face I could see the years of trouble
had worn the surface of this hidden woman

Finally, she couldn't hold it back any longer:
The longing -- the teaching -- the song she had saved

Some of us there were able to move while
the rest of use could only listen
Her song was so sad, terribly sad
and desire...that's sad too

Fallen angels had never wailed like this
no matter how they grieved for paradise

She told me after, that the music had no power
That nothing could be changed by a word or song
"It changed me" I blurted bluntly; "I changed"
She replied: "That's good...that's good"