"Keats and Yeats are on your side..."

The semester is finally over with and I'm free to do as I please...well, sort of. While studying for my Victorian Lit exam, I had to watch a series on Charles Dickens as a part of an exam review. I thought it was going to suck, but lo and behold, I was wrong. Dickens of London was an anglophile's wet-dream and the actor playing the mid-twenties Dickens was pretty awesome (see above). I will spare you the girlish gushing over Gene Foad's greatness.

Another great piece of film is the 2003 documentary, Bukowski: Born Into This. Talk about inspiration! I watched this beauty on Netflix a few days ago and it has renewed my appreciation of Bukowski's work. It contains loads of exclusive, in depth interviews with the writer himself and his closest confidants. If anyone knew how to use expletives artfully, it was Henry Charles Bukowski.

Freak scene, just can't believe it

Dinosaur Jr. - Freak Scene by jar0

This video makes everything better! J. Mascis has the best teeth ever.


Speaking of great teeth... David Bowie is the king of awesome teeth. This song is hot as hell.

Doing time in the Universal Mind

^ New illustration for a club I'm in!

I just finished an essay on Robert Browning's poetry and I'm wiped out. I've got a craving for some English psychedelia

tooooo good.

I love Belle and Sebastian, especially Stevie Jackson. At 3:42 my heart melts, as cloying as that sounds. I want to dance with Stevie and Stuart!



I think I met J. Mascis's long-lost twin today

men's fashion in the sixties= the best.

Love it. Long live black oxford shoes and pea coats.

I was wrong.. Jarvis Cocker should be poet laureate!

This is excellent!!! I'm slowly turning into an anglophile.

And now for some USDA Grade-A melodrama ala moi...

I’m on the cold precipice of March, just wavering between the frozen Chaos of winter and the balmy stillness of spring. Tonight I feel agitated, excited, stressed and buzzing with a thousand competing ideas. The neurons and synapses are buzzing with the electricity of deadlines, dreams, exaltations, caffeine and also dread. The dread is invested in the fast-approaching essays and presentations that will come after spring break. Unfortunately many things ride on these tangible demonstrations of academia, and this scares the living hell out of me. The Machine of OCD and its incessant static thrives off the fuel of insurmountable pressure. I always feel like an intruder on the halls of academia—a farce, a clown under intellectual guise. This feeling of inefficacy makes scholarly writing that much harder because I’m constantly grappling with myself.

Ray Davies should be the poet laureate

I love the Kinks, especially Autumn Almanac and Dead end Street. Screw Wordsworth and Colleridge, Mr. Davies is where it's at.


Speaking of Wordsworth... I am SO tired of hearing about him in every class I take. Yes, I realize as an English major that I need to be well versed in his works and those of his contemporaries, but can't we modernize things a little bit? Wordsworth and John Milton are killing me.
How about some Dylan Thomas and James Joyce? What about those awesome Russians Chekov, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky? Samuel Beckett anyone? I won't even ask about the Beat writers because I know that would be too good to be true. Come on Kean, get it together.