Today in didactics, we had a lecture by a man from the Spiritual Care department of the hospital. The minister man talked about how we should all make a conscious effort to exert nondenominational spiritual support (if we provide any at all) unless the family indicates a specific religion and you feel comfortable participating along those lines. Then he said he was at a family conference once, sitting around a table with the residents, attendings, fellows, RNs, social workers and family members to discuss the impending death of their child and the mom stood up in the middle of it and started speaking in tongues. Minister-man says that he's one of those kinds of Christians that does this kind of thing, so he put aside the nondenominational hat and stood up and starting speaking in tongues along with her. It was a good story. How do you just start speaking in tongues? Isn't there a lead-up to that?
Then we had a lecture on post-mortem care.
Then we went to the morgue, for a tour.
Then the CEO of the hospital talked to us about all the great things done at CHLA, and they were all things related to medicine, noble medicine, rich medicine, respected medicine. I became kind of angry on the inside.
Then at lunch I had a conversation with Daniel, who thinks I should be an MD or an OD and I tried not to think too hard about it.
Then I checked my email: nothing.
Then during break I almost finished O'Connor's Star of the Sea and when Yo La Tengo's Autumn Sweater was chosen at random from iPod it made me nearly teary.
Then I went and bought Return of the King Extended Edition. I really wanted that Minas Tirith stash-box. It would make an incredible stash-box. But it was 30 bucks more than the DVD alone, so I recanted. The insert on the back of the DVD says "50 minutes of new and extended scenes added by Director Peter Jackson". In case there was any confusion, you know - in case you thought the 50 minutes of new and extended scenes were added by Emperor Hirohito or Paul Reubens.
Then, here I am now.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Friday, December 10, 2004
Getting the Geek Blood to Boil
1. Did I mention that I spotted Daniel Lanois at the Arcade Fire show? Pulling his skull cap on immediately after crossing the threshold as he left the show, whereupon he mounted one of the meatiest chrome motorcycles I have ever seen, and went away into the rainy night. It was a Yeah, Bono's Slept In My Guestroom kind of motorcycle. Look for a future review on my mom's blog as mom and sister are going to the Vancouver show, courtesy of Lebo RN. (BTW, both Troubadour shows are already sold out for the 15th and 16th in LA.) I hold one of the precious.
2. I have three tickets to Imperial Teen for this Saturday. One is for me, the others are up for grabs. You can haves them for free, it will be my little Jesus gift to you. I know most of you will be stuffing yourself with Bill Murray paraphernalia instead, but if not, hey, I thought I'd ask.
3. First trailer for Burton's Willy Wonka, aqui. The Wonka bars are the same as in the first movie.
4. It is that time of year, O December! The season when miniature Minas Tirith stash-holders are being shipped nationwide, wrapped tightly beside the blue faux-leather, faux-book DVD packaging we - our kind - have grown to become so hungry for. It will be the last great beckoning of the Frodoiste for quite some time, I think. There is a long teaser trailer for the Return of the King Extended Edition for those with instant gratification problems
5. Very cool piece on 826 LA in the LA Times this week. It is a concise and exciting explanation of what we will be doing when we are up and running.
Your favorite Lone Star,
Sarah
2. I have three tickets to Imperial Teen for this Saturday. One is for me, the others are up for grabs. You can haves them for free, it will be my little Jesus gift to you. I know most of you will be stuffing yourself with Bill Murray paraphernalia instead, but if not, hey, I thought I'd ask.
3. First trailer for Burton's Willy Wonka, aqui. The Wonka bars are the same as in the first movie.
4. It is that time of year, O December! The season when miniature Minas Tirith stash-holders are being shipped nationwide, wrapped tightly beside the blue faux-leather, faux-book DVD packaging we - our kind - have grown to become so hungry for. It will be the last great beckoning of the Frodoiste for quite some time, I think. There is a long teaser trailer for the Return of the King Extended Edition for those with instant gratification problems
5. Very cool piece on 826 LA in the LA Times this week. It is a concise and exciting explanation of what we will be doing when we are up and running.
Your favorite Lone Star,
Sarah
Thursday, December 09, 2004
More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark
Remember those scary story books we used to order from Scholastic? With the scary black and white wet-on-wet watercolors? I think the creators of those books hold the chemical formula for Scary.
I want to tell you about something scary.
Last night, I watched Revelations, the second documentary (the first called Paradise Lost: The murders at Robin Hood Hills) about the case of the "West Memphis 3". These are three teenagers accused of committing "a satanic, ritualistic murder" of three little boys in the forest between trailer parks. Essentially, it appears these three have been tossed in jail for life because they listened to Metallica, wore black t-shirts and because the smart one of the three (Damien Echols, currently on death row) was bold enough to describe himself as a Wiccan before a Arkansian jury. Poor Metallica, they mean so well.
However, regarding the scary aspect, I am not referring to the oral health or hygiene of the inhabitants of West Memphis. No, I suggest you rent Paradise Lost or Revelations, and then tell me what you think of Mr. Mark Byers, stepfather of one of the three boys murdered in the case. He is a six foot 2, toothless method-actor, a man on a variety of antipsychotic medications, a lover of knives, an individual who performs a mock burial for the accused involving lighter fluid, an axe, some overalls and a lot of yelling the words "Burn in Hell!" with gritted teeth, who falls dramatically to his knees at the grave of his wife, who seems to speak only in rehearsed monologue every time he is on-camera, who loves to wax biblical at the sight of stormclouds, whose intelligence is kind of unnerving in contrast to those who surround him, who gave the filmmakers a hunting knife as a gift during the filming of the first documentary that had dried human blood on it, a man who, affter evidence of bite marks were found on a victim following the first trial, claims all of his teeth were extracted following the murders due to taking tegretol - this is the portrait of the scariest bogeyman I've ever seen, and who is believed by many to be the murderer himself.
Enjoy the show!
I want to tell you about something scary.
Last night, I watched Revelations, the second documentary (the first called Paradise Lost: The murders at Robin Hood Hills) about the case of the "West Memphis 3". These are three teenagers accused of committing "a satanic, ritualistic murder" of three little boys in the forest between trailer parks. Essentially, it appears these three have been tossed in jail for life because they listened to Metallica, wore black t-shirts and because the smart one of the three (Damien Echols, currently on death row) was bold enough to describe himself as a Wiccan before a Arkansian jury. Poor Metallica, they mean so well.
However, regarding the scary aspect, I am not referring to the oral health or hygiene of the inhabitants of West Memphis. No, I suggest you rent Paradise Lost or Revelations, and then tell me what you think of Mr. Mark Byers, stepfather of one of the three boys murdered in the case. He is a six foot 2, toothless method-actor, a man on a variety of antipsychotic medications, a lover of knives, an individual who performs a mock burial for the accused involving lighter fluid, an axe, some overalls and a lot of yelling the words "Burn in Hell!" with gritted teeth, who falls dramatically to his knees at the grave of his wife, who seems to speak only in rehearsed monologue every time he is on-camera, who loves to wax biblical at the sight of stormclouds, whose intelligence is kind of unnerving in contrast to those who surround him, who gave the filmmakers a hunting knife as a gift during the filming of the first documentary that had dried human blood on it, a man who, affter evidence of bite marks were found on a victim following the first trial, claims all of his teeth were extracted following the murders due to taking tegretol - this is the portrait of the scariest bogeyman I've ever seen, and who is believed by many to be the murderer himself.
Enjoy the show!
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Cardiac Fire
If I had a stick,
I'd bang it on a drum and
I'd hook myself up to an amplifier
and electric-spark myself across the stage.
If I were to trip or twitch in the process,
I could make it look like part of the show.
I have witnessed the twitch, and the clapping.
I was tripped, but I fell into the Arcade Fire, and I was held by the heat for a moment in time.
By the end of tonight, my right eye was stung by a bead of sweat,
brought forth down my forehead by several Newtons of
blue light, accordion-sucked air, and
uncorked heartbeats.
A band that covers Naive Melody (this must be the place);
A band that offers us Beast of Burden and Cinnamon Girl as background while
the cymbals are set up;
A band that drums on any surface regardless of its density
can only reflect white joy off of its wall of sound.
I'd bang it on a drum and
I'd hook myself up to an amplifier
and electric-spark myself across the stage.
If I were to trip or twitch in the process,
I could make it look like part of the show.
I have witnessed the twitch, and the clapping.
I was tripped, but I fell into the Arcade Fire, and I was held by the heat for a moment in time.
By the end of tonight, my right eye was stung by a bead of sweat,
brought forth down my forehead by several Newtons of
blue light, accordion-sucked air, and
uncorked heartbeats.
A band that covers Naive Melody (this must be the place);
A band that offers us Beast of Burden and Cinnamon Girl as background while
the cymbals are set up;
A band that drums on any surface regardless of its density
can only reflect white joy off of its wall of sound.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Archive No. 3: Last in a Tryptich.
Adam Clayton, silent bass player. Bonovox, self-professed 3-inch man, Chicago 1981. Randomized, controlled clinical trials completed in the field of follicular cultural studies have demonstrated that Ireland has not conclusively contributed to the canon of forward-thinking hairstyles in a manner that can be described as statistically significant (alpha < 0.5). It has been hypothesized in other works that these results may be applicable to the whole of Hibernia and Britain, save for England proper (responsible for the Chelsea Girl, Mo- and Faux-hawks, Mohicans, Moptops, Blur Bangs, and Toni and Guy products among others).
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Archive No.2: The Irish Have A Hard Time of It
Archive No.2: I avert mine eyes, for the gaze of the hair is more powerful than the gaze of the bearer.
Originally uploaded by Sarah Lebo.
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Friday, December 03, 2004
The Society for Follicular Safety and the Prevention of Historical Repetition Presents: A cautionary tale in triptych
Archive No. 1: A young Paul Hewson and tea, circa 1980. This follicular arrangement is tolerable, partially flattering and even mod. There is quite a bit of it. Note its lustre - resilient, pervasive. Some believe the shinyness of one's hair can be directly equated with the shinyness of one's soul.
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