May 23: "Midnight in Paris," Obsession, "Star Wars"

My friend, Keith, has been telling me for a few years that I needed to watch Midnight in Paris.  I believe his exact words were, "That movie is un-be-liev-able."  Last week, I had lunch with him, and he mentioned the movie again.

So I ordered it.

And I saved it for tonight.  Well, I watched it, and my friend was right.  It is an unbelievably great movie.  I'm watching it again right now with my wife.  I have a feeling it's going to become one of my obsessions for a while.

I once spent an entire Christmas break watching the film Stranger than Fiction every day.  It drove my wife crazy.  I do that.  I become a little . . . crazy about moves and books.  I've read a thousand-page Charles Dickens biography by Peter Ackroyd at least four or five times.  When I was a kid, I went to see the original Star Wars 27 times at the movie theater.  Obsession.

I'm obsessed with writing this blog.  That's why I've written close to 2,000 posts.  I want to be read, liked.  I want to write things that move people.  Help people.  Excite people.  I'm not sure if I'll ever get to that point, but I'm obsessed with the idea.

Maybe Saint Marty really does need professional help.

Care to join me in a little stroll down lunatic lane?

April 5: Sense of Humor, Sharon Olds Again, "Diagnosis"

One of the things that allows me to live the life I have is my sense of humor.  I have two basically full-time jobs that barely allow me to pay my bills.  I'm a part-time medical records clerk who works over 50 hours per week for part-time benefits.  I'm a part-time adjunct English professor who's been teaching part-time at the same university for close to 20 years.  I have a book manuscript that I can't get published.  And I have a blog that I obsessively write posts for that I'm not sure anyone cares about.  I have to have a sense of humor.

I've had a good day.  I had breakfast with my best friend whom I haven't seen in close to a year.  I had a great appointment with a therapist.  I just ate a Reese's Peanut Butter Egg.  I'm watching Stranger than Fiction, one of my favorite movies ever.  The snow is melting, and I have the whole weekend ahead of me.

On this P.O.E.T.S. Day Eve, Saint Marty's turning to Sharon Olds again, because she is a poet who has a sense of humor.

Diagnosis

By the time she was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me.  I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood.  My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long.  My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face--
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She's doing it now!  Look!
She's doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor.  Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

Jesus had a sense of humor, too

April 4: Jaws is Stranger than Fiction

I have a dilemma.

Because so many class days were cancelled at the university because of snow this semester, I can't show all of the movies I originally intended for my Intro to Film class.  After Brokeback Mountain, I have Will Ferrell's Stranger than Fiction on the syllabus.  Before spring break, I told my students we weren't going to view Jaws.  Now, I'm reconsidering that decision.

The majority of my students were disappointed that I'd chosen to eliminate Jaws.  One guy tried to talk me into getting rid of Brokeback Mountain instead.  Hardly anyone is looking forward to Stranger than Fiction.  My dilemma is whether I give into popular pressure and show Jaws, thereby insuring more positive student evaluations at the end of the term, or stick to my original plan and screen Will Ferrell next week, incurring wrath and recrimination from my students, not to mention some shitty evaluations.

If I was a purist, I wouldn't cave in.  I'd tell my classes that Stranger than Fiction is a more interesting film, exploring ideas of comedy versus tragedy, a life of quiet desperation.  However, Jaws is a kick-ass movie, taking on the themes of man versus nature, Captain Ahab versus Moby Dick.  I'm completely at a loss.

I think what I'm going to do is bring both films to class next week.  It will depend upon my mood and chocolate intake as to whether the last film of the class will feature Bruce the shark or Will the tax man.

In the mean time, Saint Marty will be up on Brokeback Mountain, tending the sheep.  (Do no read anything into that statement.  No subtext is included.)

This...

or...

this?

January 8: Getting Some Work Done

In the second week of my vacation, I can't quite relax the way I did in my first week.  I have work I need to get done.  I finished a good portion of it this evening.  I put together my syllabi for this semester.  They are printed, hole-punched, and filed in my binder.  It took me a little longer than I anticipated.  It wasn't just a matter of changing dates from last semester's Intro to Film class.  Because of Spring Break, I had one less week to work with.  Therefore, I changed one movie and eliminated one movie.  We are not going to watch Annie Hall or It's a Wonderful Life.  Instead, the last film of the semester is going to be Stranger than Fiction.  My reasoning is simple:  I love the movie.

It took me about three hours to get my crap together.  Now, with the copying complete and the rest of the night stretching out before me, I will once again return to Stephen King land.  I didn't get much reading done this afternoon, so I have to play catch-tup.  My goal of having 11/22/63 finished before I return to work next week is becoming less and less realistic.  I'm hoping, with my school prep done, I'll be able to concentrate a little more on pleasure reading.  (Is it really pleasure reading if I've given myself a deadline and a daily assignment of pages to complete?  Sounds more like SK 101:  Introduction to Stephen King.)

My daughter is through with dance class in about an hour.  That allows me to read about fifty or so pages.  Or I may just sit at my desk and stare off into space.  My mind is beginning to implode a little.

To paraphrase Stephen King, all work and no play make Saint Marty really, really tired.

...and Saint Marty, too

January 7: A Stephen King Kind of Night

My daughter and wife are at a meeting right now.  My son is in bed.  M*A*S*H is on the TV.  Stephen King is waiting in my book bag.  As soon as I'm done typing this post, I'm going to dive into 11/22/63.  I'm one eighth of the way through the novel, about 100 pages.  That means I've got over 700 pages to go.  I'm hoping to get it done by the end of my vacation.

I haven't read a Stephen King book in ages.  I used to read everything he wrote, bu,t about the time I started grad school, I moved on to Flannery O'Connor and Dante and Chaucer.  This book is my first excursion into King country since Pet Sematary.  I remember reading whole King novels in one sitting, and then rereading them the following day.  That's not going to happen with 11/22/63, unless I want to develop a blood clot in my leg and soil myself.

Tomorrow, I have to spend some time working on my syllabi for this semester.  It shouldn't take me too long, but I always find this kind of preparation a little tedious.  I'd rather be walking through a wormhole with Stephen King than choosing between Slumdog Millionaire or Stranger than Fiction for Intro to Film.  (I'll be choosing Stranger than Fiction.  I already own the movie, and it's one of my favorites.)  At this point in the novel, I'm not quite hooked on the book yet, but I want to keep reading.

11/22/63 isn't typical Stephen King.  It's set in King country, Derry and Shawshank and Bangor, but it   has more in common with Quantum Leap than The Walking Dead.  For me, reading King is like walking into one of my old high school classrooms.  The desks are the same.  One of them may even have my name carved in it still.  However, the room seems a little smaller, the air charged with decades of unfamiliar teenage ions.  I'm getting used to the landscape of the book.

Saint Marty hears his daughter at the front door.  Time to slip into the King wormhole.

Be afraid.  Be very afriad.

December 30: Favorite Movie, New Year's Decorating, New Cartoon

I am sitting on my couch, watching one of my favorite movies ever--Stranger than Fiction.  It stars Will Ferrell and Maggie Gyllenhaal and Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson.  I don't know why this film appeals to me so much.  Ferrell plays IRS agent Harold Crick who discovers that he's a character in a novel by reclusive writer Karen Eiffel (Thompson).  It's a love story.  It's a tragedy.  It's a comedy.  It's postmodern.  It's old-fashioned.  It sort of defies categorization.

A few years ago, my DVD of the movie got scratched.  It started jumping and skipping.  I threw it away, and I've missed it ever since.  This Christmas, my sister bought me a new copy of the DVD, and last night, I watched it for the first time.  I'm watching it again tonight.  Yes, I love this movie that much.

I'm also really tired.  I spent the day shopping and decorating for the New Year's Eve party at my parents' house tomorrow night.  The cheese and crackers are bought.  The crescent weenies are cooked.  The streamers are streamed.  It's been a very long day.

I'm almost at the end of the movie.  Emma Thompson and Will Ferrell have finally met.  Death is looming for Ferrell's character.  Dustin Hoffman just explained the nature of tragedy to him.  I'm telling you this movie is full of beauty and poetry.  And it's a Will Ferrell film.

There aren't many perfect days.  With Stranger than Fiction in the DVD player and 2013 looming, Saint Marty is having a favorite thing kind of perfect day.

Confessions of Saint Marty