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  • Kimberly Hula 11:20 am on October 12, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: 14/52, Cambridge, pillow fight   

    ADV. #14: How Soft the Blow 

    I’m jealous of jackasses.

    Those who choose to seize the day via public spectacle and go against the grain of acceptable adult behavior.  Because now that I’ve grown I am expected to act a certain way.  I should be polite and respectful; give up my seat on the bus for seniors and less able-bodied.  I should iron my clothes and be able to discern between multiple forks on a table.  I should drink good wine and talk politics.  This is what might be expected of a professional woman.

    Of course this is not a hard and fast rule.  Nor, is it a bad standard.

    When I was young all I wanted was to be older and now that I am, I’d give anything to be eight again.  If only for a day.

    I read that very sentiment in an old journal of mine the other day and I found myself repeating it to Jane.

    “I just want to be eight again.” (More …)

     

  • jeindeer 1:39 pm on March 22, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , brattle theater, Cambridge,   

    #9: See James Ivory at the Brattle Theater 

    After having so much fun during the classic horror movie marathon at Brattle Theatre, I kept looking for an adventurous reason to go back.  That opportunity arose when they hosted a Q&A session with James Ivory from Merchant Ivory Productions.  James Ivory directed the movie versions of both The Remains of the Day and Howards End.  I’m not totally familiar with the process of making a film–I’m more of a book girl–so the talk was really informative.

    A few highlights:

    • Everyone (myself–until recently–included) assumes he’s English, but he’s not.  He finds this hilarious.  Personally, I’d also like to live my life so that people assume I’m from England.
    • He loved The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which reminded him of Ingmar Bergman’s The Magic Flute.
    • He feels that small historical details can give a movie the richness and atmosphere it needs, and mentioned a fact he learned while doing research for Jefferson in Paris: whenever anyone paid a call to the court of Louis XIV and mentioned his name, all men present had to take off their hats… including Louis XIV.

    It’s always inspiring to be the presence of someone who is great at and passionate about their craft.  Merchant Ivory Productions was headed up by a group of friends (a director, a producer, and a writer) who lived on different floors in the same apartment building, always ate breakfast together, and fought about and filmed great movies.  Hearing him speak about that communal creative process was quite inspiring.  I’ll definitely watch more of his films in the future.

     

  • jeindeer 11:11 am on February 1, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Cambridge, horror,   

    #5: Classic Horror Triple Feature 

    My love-hate relationship with creepy movies has a simple cause: they work way too well on me. It’s one thing when the story’s good, but even the most embarrassing plot twist leaves me clutching at my chest. I appreciate the craft of creepiness. I’m always on the lookout for written horror or suspense. My favorite author of all time is Shirley Jackson, who wrote the short story “The Lottery”—you know, the oft-anthologized high school English staple where New England villagers gossip about the big event that will happen that afternoon (I won’t spoil the uninitiated, but there’s a link at the bottom of the post).

    Movies are different. Without my imagination to mediate, I’m at the mercy of shrill string soundtracks and ghouls leaping suddenly onscreen. I can’t really hold my own, dignity-wise. As the wise friend I’ve deemed my official horror movie ambassador will attest, I make noises.

    (More …)

     

  • Kimberly Hula 1:22 am on January 24, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Cambridge, , Stone Soup   

    Digesting the Stone 

    “Which poems will you read?” Brad asked, to which I responded, “I guess it’s between my concerning ones or my really concerning ones”. And that’s not a stretch. I don’t write poetry in the hopes of one day publishing. I harbor no ill-conceived notions of being crowned a laureate or lyricist or zany wordsmith. Rather, I write poems when red-faced. I write when I’m mad or sad or any intensified emotion that allows the emoter, me, to bellow in unconventional syntax. And it works. I write and write until I’ve exhausted myself. And when I’m poetically tuckered out, I’m usually in a place better than I was before, which is important when one references the titles of some of my poems, namely: “Your Living Wake”, “My Sister’s Eulogy” (note, she is still alive), “Eulogy For the Ugly”, among others.

    (More …)

     

    • eatveggiesdrinkwine 2:47 pm on January 24, 2010 Permalink

      Congratulations — what courage!

    • jenitz 1:50 am on January 25, 2010 Permalink

      If your poems are as well written as this narrative, then I’m sure to be impressed. What a great adventurer!

  • adventurechaser 11:08 pm on January 20, 2010 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , Cambridge, Hula, ,   

    Poets Of Cambridge 

    My week two adventure looked something like this…. It was a dark and cool night. Two friends ventured to the green line only to be encapsulated for mere minutes until delivery to the red – taking us to an unknown land called Cambridge. Ok so it really wasn’t unknown as I had been there many times before but for nothing quite as special as this.

    Jane and I ventured out that night to support our good friend and founder of The Year of 52 Adventures, Kim, in her first ever poetry reading. Let me back up for a moment and inject that the mere fact that Jane and I made it somewhere together and didn’t get lost or have an awkward train experience in and of itself qualifies as an adventure – but that’s not the focus of this particular post. This adventure wasn’t so much about the location where it took place or transport there. However the eclectic artwork that lined the walls top to bottom and side to side, the stray cat that seemed to be endeared by everyone (well, everyone but me due to a distant memory that included a lunging cat, hissing, blood, a spray bottle, scars, and cat-scratch disease), and the over-zealous host who very well could have been elated for reasons other than being the keeper of such an evening were cause enough for sensory overload and future poetry material. (More …)

     

    • yearof52adventures 12:28 am on January 21, 2010 Permalink

      I.<3.You.

    • Jane Showalter 12:37 am on January 21, 2010 Permalink

      You’re right, it is a big triumph that we made it somewhere together! And I think that cat had some radar for the people who wanted to pet it (I’ll admit it: me), and went instead to the people who didn’t really care for it (like the man sleeping on the sofa.)

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