Wednesday, March 26, 2003
LATE TUESDAY.
1. Poetry or prose? Prose.
2. Funky modern art or the older, "classic" variety?well both - it depends which particular artist.
3. Sculptures or paintings? Collages!
4. Theatre: exuberant musical or serious drama? Drama -
5. Ballet or modern dance? Modern ballet?
6. Movies: major studio or indie? indie!
7. Authors: Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss? who's Dr Seuss?
8. TV: PBS or A&E? I have no TV, and I rarely watch it!
9. Music: Beethoven or Beatles? Beatles, most of the time.
10. Thought-provoking question of the week: You are a contributing member of your favorite art museum, and visit on a regular basis. They announce a new, temporary special exhibit by an artist surrounded by controversy...this person's work and/or political views offend you. Do you stop supporting the museum, or just stay away during the time the exhibit is there? (Loudly) voice my concern about said artist during the time of the exhibit!
. . .
EARLY BIRD. It's barely 9 in the morning, and I have already enough material to rant continuously all morning! I had great plans of getting up at 6, leaving Paris at 6:30, and getting here as early as 8... Of course, I ended up sleeping a little more, and leaving at 6:50, which wasn't so bad, since the traffic on the inner ring wasn't too badly jammed yet. The first bad surprise came when I got into the car, and eached for the radio button. Only to realize that there wasn't one, thanks to my very cautious brother, who carefully removed said radio, in case someone would want to steal it (thought it's so bad, I still haven't figured out why anyone would even want to buy such a piece of crap). Anyways, so off I go, on my 90 minutes musicless drive, and when i'm finally getting there, I have one of these stupidity crisis, which leads me out of the highway through the wrong exit, and ensues a 30 minute frantic drive before I manage to get on the tracks, and reach my final destination, at my latest conveniance...
I could go on and tell you about the sweet letter that was awaiting me in my letter box, telling me that I am required to take a bloody English class to graduate from my PhD. An English class, as in "we'll teach you how to speak English class" which will most probably be "taught" by someone who never set a foot out of France... Oh boy! Ok, I'll rant more about all that later on, 'coz the point in getting here early was to actually get some work done before 9:30, and we're almost there!!!
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