Lot 49 » Theory

Futility (Video Edition)

J. Celestino — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 01:36:10 +0000

Click here to view the embedded video.

Futility

J. Celestino — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 02:41:10 +0000

My mother tells me this story from time to time of when I was born. A few days after bringing me home I was crying and would not stop. The kind of cry that worries a mother. After much examination and stress my mother noticed that I was actually pulling my own hair. I had grabbed a handful of hair and pulled and in doing so started to cry and grasped tighter and pulled harder as if the reaction warranted further aggression. As if I was trying to punish the hair for causing me pain by pulling it harder. Now, quite a few years later I find that sometimes my life is an extended metaphor of that moment. I should consider cutting my hair shorter.

Of Academics, Strange Dreams and Neuroscience.

J. Celestino — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 05:19:53 +0000

Click here to view the embedded video.

A strange dream I had that reminded me about the different methodologies for taking notes that I don’t use but might be useful to you.

_________________
Note taking methods:
http://sas.calpoly.edu/asc/ssl/noteta…
http://www.academictips.org/acad/lite…
STAR - http://ljhs.sandi.net/faculty/mteachw…

Images used under Creative Commons License:
Clean Notes - http://www.flickr.com/photos/kishimot…
Sketch Notes - http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaeru/36…

On Insomnia and Tomorrow.

J. Celestino — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 17:20:50 +0000

I tend to avoid falling asleep as an attempt to avoid “Tomorrow”. See, as soon as I fall asleep, I will wake up and it will be “Tomorrow”. Usually “Tomorrow” lands on a work day so I don’t like it much. Moreover, I like the “End of Today” a lot, so I try to stretch that out as much as possible. This, however, is detrimental to my mental capacity for the first few hours of “Tomorrow”, but does contribute to the financial betterment of the coffee industry. Which ultimately makes “End of Today” better for everyone. You know, just trying to do my part.

Quiet Please

J. Celestino — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 18:50:50 +0000

I tend not to speak much anymore. I used to be much more animated and lively, etc. Recently there is little to be lively about that I tend not to speak. I’m not mute but muted. I hope this ends soon. I’m considering an idea to force myself to speak daily. Maybe this will help. Maybe the conversation with the air will lead to less forced vocabulary. More on this project soon.

Amusing Ourselves to Death

J. Celestino — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 04:53:45 +0000

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny “failed to take into account man’s almost infinite appetite for distractions.” In 1984, Orwell added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we fear will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we desire will ruin us.

- Neil Postman

Tejas

J. Celestino — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 05:00:58 +0000

I find myself having less and less in common with Texas each time I return. Yet when I’m there and someone asks me if I’m going home I imediately think of my parents house. In any other part of the world I think Detroit.

Synecdoche

J. Celestino — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 23:15:06 +0000

I’ve just returned from seeing Synecdoche, the latest Charlie Kaufman movie, and I enjoyed the movie quite a bit, some parts are truely hilarious. However I doubt many will. As a matter of fact several comments from neighboring patrons included “I’m glad it’s over” and “What the hell was that all about?” Two people behind us decided to leave near the end, oddly about 15 minutes till the end. Why not stay till the punctuation mark?

Anyway, why they left: The movie is a classic example of postmodernism, throwing the sequence of time out the window as well as being rather self referential. Someone not accustomed to the genre or Kaufman films in general would find the movie hard to follow. Ironically I enjoyed the film for the very reasons that some left. I found it interesting and well layered but about the beginning of the second act I noticed a surprising similarity to Six Characters in Search of an Author. Which gave me a basis for understanding the movie without much explanation. So I spent the movie admiring the details as I no longer had to pay attention to the road signs. I think that is the key to Kaufman movies.

It was enjoyable and interesting, my only wish was that it didn’t hand it to you on a silver platter at the end. He decided to simply beat you over the head with the message at the end like so many art films I wanted to enjoy. Children of Men is a good example of this. Small spoiler: I wanted the movie to end when Hoffman gets the role of Ellen near the end, just after he enters the door.

Watch the trailer and if you are into a slightly tougher read, then give it a go.

Click here to view the embedded video.

about:blank

J. Celestino — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 15:20:09 +0000

There is a true art to saying nothing and having people think it’s profound. Some are excellent at it and some fall short and let their cohorts do most of the talking. Nevertheless, I’m astounded at the amount of wealth and power can come from saying absolutely nothing. I should probably start rehearsing my versions of elaborate nothing.

Of Hot Sauce and Douchebaggery

J. Celestino — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 19:38:32 +0000

I found myself having lunch at a Buffalo Wild Wings recently. Not my choice mind you, there is something about a restaurant/bar that has multiple televisions on the walls that makes me throw up a little in my mouth. Never-the-less I was with family so in we go. The clientele never ceases to amaze me in a BW3′s, you will always find frosted tips on both the guys and girls. I should have bought stock in BW3′s as the douchebag index seems to be on the rise in this country. And somehow the enticement of hot sauce and sports is too much for the average douchebag. So they congregate there and beat there chests in vocal ritualistic methods, guzzling beer and using the worst pick up lines in existence. However the female version of the douchebag, sometimes referred to as a douche baguette or slut for short, seems to think of these lame attempts as peacock feathers. When presented with such mating calls they tend to emit a repetitive high pitched response. I was thankful the Olympics were on one of the TV’s so I could zone out and refrain from burning my esophagus with stomach acid. Despite the clade of butterfly tattoos, I was still able to enjoy some synchronized diving.

By the by, the sauce is good but the urge to buy peroxide soon after paying the bill is eerie.