It was like watching a Michael Bay movie, but only completely opposite in every sense.

Last night I went to a poetry slam that a friend of a friend organized. This was a new experience, to say the least. I heard this type of poetry before, but not often. Purdue does not exactly foster the type of environment in which these contests occur. Come to think of it, Indiana doesn't really foster that type of environment. Or most of the Midwest. On my way there, I was a bit apprehensive because I thought that I would stick out as what these kids today call "n00bs." Fortunately it seemed most in the crowd had never been to a slam before, and were just as curious as I was. The slam worked by groups of spectators would rate each poet, hold up their rating on a board, and the average score was worked out.

My group wanted to give every poet and every poem a 10, almost every single time. I may not know much about slams, but I do know poetry. The poets there were some of the best of the south, so all of them of course were going to be good. The ability of the poet to "move you" was not in question. How well each was at delivery, uniqueness, cleverness, honesty, form, rhythm, these factors had to be thought of before rating each poem. Most of the group, however, either didn't want to rate them at all (the "how can I rate someone's heart and sou?" argument--they want to be rated or they wouldn't be on stage), or had decided that a rating could only be based on emotional response.

On the way home, the experience made me start to think of how one should balance the feeling an artwork evokes in you, and its technical prowess. Just how does one regard art? Should one be rated more than the other? Does a truly great work have to have a balance of both? Or can something shine because it has such a profuse amount of one factor?

I have always been pleased with the AFI's Top 100 Films list. While I may not agree with all the selections on it, the list does a remarkable job of including some films that are probably only on there due to the technical feats it accomplished (ie Star Wars), while others are on there probably due to just the welling of emotions one gets while watching the film (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington). The top of that list, however, is reserved for those brilliant films that serve as an outstanding example of all those ways in which a work of art can shine.** The #1 film is Citizen Kane. It took me awhile to understand why this was so. The first time I watched it I realized it certainly was a good film, but a great film? I had trouble seeing it. Slowly though, I began to realize just how well put together the film was technically. Every aspect of the mis en scene serves to underscore the narrative. Not only did Orwell perfect lighting techniques, camera spanning (has anyone done it better since?), and invented new editing styles, he pushed these to new heights, some of which have yet to be reached again. Whenever a friend asks why I like the film so much, I have trouble explaining just how great Orwell's directing is. Part of the reason is that these techniques that were brand new in the film, have been used so often in the following 67 years that they no longer seem new--just a matter of course.

I realized on the ride home, that in admiring this film on its technical merits, an injustice is done by ignoring the way almost every actor played his or her part to the fullest. Orwell himself was the greatest in the film--he never was able to reach this acting height again. Watch his eyes in the film! Almost every emotion a man can have is played out just in his eyes. When needed, Orwell stripped the film of fancy camera and lighting work; he simplified the all that riff-raff to allow the characters to shine.

I've posted my favorite scene below. The scene takes place soon after Kane has acquired his inherited fortune, and has taken over the Inquirer newspaper. He is in the process of transforming it. Like the title character, the newspaper has an ambiguous identity. Half of it is an earnest journalistic endeavour, meant to bring out a truth that the other newspapers have been ignoring. The other half is an ugly rag, inventing yellow journalism, and being anything but honest. In this scene, however, Kane has yet to fall from grace (a fall that is as magnificent as Macbeth), and all of his noble ambition is laid out for all to see. His fall is more wrenching than his rise is delightful, but every time I see this scene, I hope that maybe this time Kane won't betray himself.





On a completely different subject, I'm not the only one taking the zombie invasion threat seriously. I hope the two candidates read this article:

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/2783/how-would-the-u-s-military-fight-attack-by-a-zombie-army


**The exception to this is Singing in the Rain. Seriously, WTF AFI? This film is a fine, entertaining flick, but top 10?! The acting is nothing but average, the narrative was created to fit the songs, not the other way around, and the songs themselves were half plagiarized! The only decent thing about this movie was its editing and stage effects. Like hell that makes it belong in the top 10.

I hath caught the plague.

It's 9:42 pm. I should've been in bed an hour ago. But the DNC is this week, and I must see what Jon Stewart has to say about yesterday's events. Must have political witticisms...

Every year I've gotten sick on the first week of school. Since, as many know, skipping class is only for when you are hungover, not sick, I always make it there. Strangely, about half the class is missing the next week...

But I thought "Hey! I'm out of college now, however temporary that may be (Go Go LSAT/GRE study manuals!), so surely I'll be OK now." What I didn't consider is that with all the students coming back, this will be one of the busiest weeks of the year. So today I got to go to work with a 103 fever, speak with a bunch of freshmen, meet the Volunteer Corps group, and appear on live television at the Live 5! (Motto: I'm too sick to think of something clever.) noon broadcast. Video posted later. I felt like a whore. The college is sponsoring the drive almost in name only, but I got to make it sound like this was a great opportunity for freshman to get involved with the community. As involved as one can get by dumping two cans of diced pineapple into a cardboard box. Maybe it'll get some students to our office and we can show them how to do some real good in the world. I don't know.

And now, story time.

Two years ago when I was an RA (or, as my friend's know it, Neil's Alcoholic Period.), I didn't exactly get along with my Staff Resident--a student supervisor. We weren't enemies, but we definitely weren't friends. This was made worse by the fact that I thought he was treating me unfairly with regard to his actions towards other RAs, and I'm a petty petty person, so I never really addressed the issue with him. That following summer, he invited all the remaining staff out to his house for some sort of picnic. I went out of the temptation for free food. It turns out that he had once been employed in the same position as my summer job, and he hated my boss as much as I did. I believe his words were "I wouldn't exactly consider him a person." From there on we were a lot better.

Now my SR, Ben, was about to get married. As a joke I had a mutual friend who was going to the wedding bring the happy couple 3 gallons of cranberry juice. (Confused? Visit here: http://www.honeymooncystitis.com/ Cranberry juice is a home remedy.) Here is where the fun begins.

There was another Neil invited to that wedding. My friend didn't put my last name on the gift tag. The happy couple thought the other Neil had given it. The other Neil hadn't gone to the wedding, and hadn't given a gift. When he received a thank-you note from the couple, he thought they were being sarcastic and didn't talk to them for months. A year later when I asked them if they enjoyed the cranberry juice, their jaws dropped in surprise. It all made sense.

Fast forward a year. An old friend of mine is driving across the nation visiting potential graduate schools, and camping along the way. He stops in Montana (approximately 1,500 miles away from Indiana). The car next to him has Purdue tags. He asks the campers if, out of the 40,000 students at Purdue, had they met a Neil Hudelson. Their reply? "Tell him thank you for the cranberry juice."

And that's the way it was.

Update

Watching the DNC.

Holy Shit Michelle Obama is hot right now.

Life update 1.

I haven't really wrote about anything I've been doing for about 3 weeks, so let's get it all out at once, shall we?

I may not get paid much, but one fortunate side effect is that people take pity on you and pay for things. Case in point, two weekends ago I got to drive to Charlotte, which is a beautiful city, spend two days there including theme parks and museum visits, all meals paid for, then drive back. Oh and they gave me money for gas. All because--side note, Sen. Claire McCaskill just called Truman an independent during the DNC. Truman was a machine politician that was chosen as VP simply to win his state--a coworker needed to have some oral surgery in Charlotte, and her parents didn't want to take the time to drive down and back twice.

Then this weekend...absolutely nothing happened. So you are thinking, "Life sucks for Neil, it being so boring and all. Too bad he's broke and can't do anything fun." You would be WRONG! Here's what happens when you have no money and lots of time. You make your own fucking fun! I get this call from Chocolate Bear, announcing that there are a group of people walking through downtown Indy. I of course think "How can this be taken to the next level." Try 300 zombies shuffling through downtown Charleston, ending with 20 of them doing the Thriller Dance in what used to be a slave market. Right? Yeah, it's happening. I'll update you as it comes together.

So other than that, the only other things in my life is that an ex-girlfriend--or whatever you would call her--is engaged. My first girlfriend has gotten hitched already. I never felt sad over either. With the now engaged one, the break-up was pretty easy as it was apparent we were both in different places, both geographically and developmentally. So even though I felt very close to her, probably more than she or others knew, I wasn't hurt by the break up. With the hitched-girl I felt very grateful for every decision I had ever made when I found out her wedding was Rome themed. Yes. The guests, bride, groom, etc. dressed in Togas. I'm not making this up.

Anyway, you would think I would feel really weird with people in my life entering almost-final stage of maturity, but I only feel a sense of bewilderment. Bewilderment at the fact that this doesn't bother me at all. I feel that friend after friend has this energy to unite with someone else. The only energy I feel right now is an energy to improve myself--a decidedly more selfish energy. It's a very odd feeling. I've been having odd flashes. Dreams where I am teaching people, and crowds are gathering. Two nights ago I had a flash that I would die young. I feel a sudden urgency to learn about Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, legal theory, philosophies of social movements, and foreign policy modes. In short, I'm a 23 year old almost jobless, poverty stricken male with a messiah complex.

So...that's fun.

Song of today: The Jayhawks - Blue.

I am a genius.

Discovery Last Night:

Baby Bottle

+

Scotch

= Worry Free Drinking

A day in the park.

"Welcome, fans, to the start of preseason football, here in Madison Park. As many of you fans may remember, last year's finals saw one hell of an upset after 12 years of NFC domination. The NFC has regrouped, however, and are looking to show that last year's upset was a fluke that will not be repeated."

"Right you are Fred. It doesn't look good for the NFC, however. After last season the AFC's recruiting power was unlike anything they had seen in years. After some brutal negotiations, they scored a star quarterback. Though largely untested after only playing 2 years in College, the AFC is betting that youth will trump experience in this year's play-offs. And I've seen enough sports movies to tell you that youth always triumphs over will."

"And both teams are taking the field, Will. Now astute fans watching right now may notice something odd about both teams--"

"If I'm not mistaken, both sides are missing a number of key players."

"That's right Will. In a surprise maneuver, neither team wants a full roster before the regular season starts. They believe by denying the other side a full enemy, they will not be able to formulate a good defense."

"That is an interesting strategy, Fred. One could argue that the earlier you have a full team, the earlier you can develop a cohesive offense to dominate the game."

"Yes, one could argue that."



"Both sides are lining up at the line of scrimmage. There appears to be some confusion on the AFC side. It appears that Clinton is trying to take the field as quarterback. There's some chatting going on...and yes, Obama is back in position."

"Not so fast there Fred, Hillary is coming back on the field. This time with her husband in toe. Both are now trying to convince Obama to let all three of them play Quarterback."

"It looks like Coach Howard is sorting out the confusion...and yes! Obama is still the quarterback."

"On the other side of the line, McCain is trying to get the Ref to allow all three on the field."

"He won't have much time to do that, Fred. And here's the snap! Obama fades back looking for an open spot. Gore is running down the sidelines, clearly open. Obama fakes to Gore. Oh! Dodges a nasty attempt by a linebacker...And then throws it to an oil lobbyist."

"Risky move, that one, Fred. A lot of Obama's strength before this season began was based on his ability to withstand that tough blocking on the side of the NFC. It seems this one got through though."

"The NFC now has possession of the ball. The snap to McCain. He hands it off to Military. Gain of 5 yards!"

"The NFC is in a good position now. Making headway into AFC territory. What's that going on the field?"

"It appears McCain is walking off the field. Any report on that Fred?"

"Arthritis, Will. There is a storm front coming, and, as Coach Bush put it 'His shuckin' knee is a actin' up.'"

"Tough break for the NFC. Without a Quarterback it looks like they will have to--"

"What is this! It looks like Lieberman is tearing off his jersey and running across the scrimage line. Yes, yes I think he is switching sides! No, no he's not putting on an NFC jersey. He's actually playing skins now, but taking queues from both sides. He is now dry-humping McCain's knee back to life."

"It's appeared to have worked, Fred, as McCain is coming back, waiving to the crowd from his waist."

"As we end the first quarter, Obama is going to have to find some quick replacements from the bench to shore up his defense."

"Not a problem, whatever the fuck your name is (i'm too lazy). Eisenhower, Moseley, Anderson, Chafee, Nixon (Julie), Leach, and Hagel are rushing the field to fill in Lieberman's hole."

"And that will wrap up the end of the first quarter, with both remaining even on the field. No territory gained or loss, except for Paul's phantom game off to the sidelines, in which he has killed both referees, and abolished yard markers and end zones. Stick around for the start of the second quarter after this quick commercial break."

Filler...

So I know this blog is to update people on living in Charleston. Frankly nothing all that interesting has happened here. The ocean is great, people are great, history is amazing (I live in a pirate town!!!!!!!!), but events have been mundane. I promise to share my adventures when I have them.

In the meantime...

I was trying to think of my top 5 (because base 10 rocks!), desert island, favorite songs of all time. This is much harder than it sounds. First you have to consider emotion. If you are depressed when coming up with a list, you will have a tendency to favor darker songs much more than lighthearted ones. Also the time of year will surely influence you, just as it will subtly alter your personality. Knowing all of this I still thought I could narrow down what I considered time and again the best songs I've heard, of any genre, of any time period. Of course I'm limited in that I don't listen to much classical or opera, and the jazz I do listen to I rarely put as my favorite, so really this should be a top 5 pop/modern list. Fuck it though, this is my blog.

In order:

1. Sam Cooke - A Change is Gonna Come.
The first thing strikes me about any song is its musical value. Lyrics come second. A well written set of lyrics can trump poor music, but it's rare (example: Any Tom Waits song). This piece, Cooke's swan song, has some of the most striking orchestration I've ever heard on a pop song. Ray Charles would emulate this style on a lot of his later songs, but to a much more garish extent. The orchestration syncs perfectly with the lyrics and the vocals, none of them outdoing the other. All creating a beautiful tapestry on which all of Cooke's frustrations of the racial problems in America, and eerily foreshadows his own death just slight of a year later. Unfortunately no video has surfaced of Cooke performing this song. He did sing it on live television--3 days before the Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan. Any footage of this has disappeared.



2. Billie Holiday - Autumn in New York.
Many people have sang this song; Lady Day did it best. Nick Hornsby, or maybe it was John Cusack, asked "Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was i miserable because I listened to pop?" Does one listen to this song when longing for a nostalgic, perfected, fantasy that probably never was, or does one long because of the song? The intense longing for a simple, low key comfort found in shortening sun, and the last burst of joy before the onset of winter depicted through the lyrics are transformed to a vivid, yet muted painting by the strength of her vocals. Read "In a Station of the Metro" by Ezra Pound if you are having a hard time understanding what I mean.
The best visual I could find on youtube:


3. Delorian - Violence in the Snowy Fields

I can't explain this one. The music, lyrics, and vocals are great, but not the best ever. I just really fucking like it. Always has. I heard this song about the time I found my confidence. It's message synced with my feelings at the time, and I've been hooked ever since. No youtube of it, since they aren't that big. You can find them on Amazon though, with some great reviews.
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_dmusic?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-music&field-keywords=Violence+in+the+snowy+fields&x=0&y=0

4. Tony Rice - Prisoner's Waltz.
Most people probably won't like this, since it is traditional, verging on bluegrass. Give it a chance though. I think it lives up to its name. It portrays the tragic in the mundane. Once again no full song, just a preview:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Prisoners-Waltz/dp/B0010W9CQA

5. The Ike Reilly Assassination - When Irish Eyes Are Burning Bright.
SO this song probably wont' stay on this list permanently. In fact it will be awhile until I nail down the final desert-island song. But in the meantime this one will do. At first listen its a standard rock song about drinking and fighting. Ok actually that is what it is on the 20th listen. However for me it does something. I listen to it I want to get drunk, fight, fuck, maybe all at the same time. I want to put my fist through a window, piss off a guy bigger than me, spend more money than my life is worth, and find out the other mistakes I made when I wake up the next morning. Can you name many songs that make you want to do that? No? Well then don't criticize this song.

Oddly enough I couldn't find a video of this song, but I could find a free download of it here.
Right click, and save. You know the drill people.

So...there you go.

Life will smash you in the face!

Outside of the basic essential in life, there are 2 things every guy in the world needs. A sword, or a very large knife if this is impossible, and friends that will stomp you on the nuts with their fun. Unless you can go out for a few drinks and plan to be back by a little after midnight and instead you wake up at 2 pm the next day with a black eye, a sore throat, 34 cents in cash, blistered feet sans one toe, and it now burns to pee, oh dear Lord what was in that pipe, did I really pee on a hells angel's muffler, why does that Jane keep on looking at me funny? Then you don't have the right fucking friends! Everyone can find some people to share your feelings with and lean on for support, but there are only so many people out there who will share your same propensity for a complete disregard for personal safety after 15 mixed drinks at a house party where the house doesn't have an actual floor, just kind of a dirt concrete base, and the stairs have certain ones you have need to skip unless you know your tetanus booster is up to date. If you can find the toilet seat I wouldn't recommend using it.

So there I was, knee deep. It's a Friday night and I'm getting pizza at a joint that has what looks like penises as door handles (they claim its a mushroom) and I'm drinking a mixed drink that tastes like heaven and is called a Samuel Jackson (recipe: Orange Juice, Triple Sec, Gin, Lysergic acid diethylamide, and garnished with a monkey's thyroid). Who walks in and sits down at my table, but the girl I was supposed to live with, who kind of jerked me around and made me feel like I was going to be homeless for my first month in Charleston (I'm not bitter, that' just how it was. She's a nice person). She's, from what I gathered, kind of dating one of the guys I was hanging out with. We'll call him Matt, since that's his name.

At this point I want to say that I've seen the Dark Knight twice now. The Academy needs to collect every best actor award ever given, plus all the awards coming up, and melt them down into one giant fucking Oscar to be given to Heath Ledger's family. Al Pacino can keep his.

After slamming some Sammy Jacks, we-skipping the fun, yet not fun to read next 8 hours--drink until 5 am. Sunrise #1.

I wake up at 1 pm, take a nap at 2. Run to the beach and back. Then get ready for round 2.

Nine pm I am drinking in a fucking church! Under a stained glass window, with the good Lord, I'm assuming, smiling down on us. Two hours later I'm in this pub with a band playing acoustic jam covers of Kanye West. By the way, this whole night was a going away event for a coworker. She gets the band to hand out tequila shots, which means I'm pissing in public tonight, and probably saying inappropriate things to people I don't know. We find out that the girl who is going away has never done a certain thing most college students try once. We'll call it Picking Out a Toothbrush. Well fortunately one of my posse's brothers happened to have a bag of toothbrushes (Sorry Mom), so we head over to his house. Now generally when I'm brushing my teeth, I feel like someone's shoved a wood file down my esophagus and have filled my eyes with superglue. It also feels like I can shoot cold fire out of my hands, so you know, it's a trade off. This stuff however was slightly less abrasive than oxygen.

Best thing about this particular blend of toothbrushes, my feet became supercharged. You know how in sonic the hedgehog you can hold the down button and he'll start running in place really quickly, then when you release its all chariots of fire and shit? It was like that. Then, then, then, a guy JUMPS OVER ANOTHER PERSON. I don't know if that really sinks in from the words, so I've recreated the scene below:


I bet you aren't making fun of my supercharged feet now!

Alright, I haven't had food in 20 hours. Peace.