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Showing posts from March, 2005
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"At this juncture, Marken reminded the audience that "the liberal arts satisfy something distinctly human inside us, a craving to know that seems to be natural and innate; they are personally empowering - they give insight without experience ... We must see the liberal arts for what they are - a central way, however flawed, of making society smarter, more intelligent, more careful and thoughtful in areas that matter." Fearing that it is already too late to change the course of university teaching, Marken told the audience, 'I was naive. I said too little and too late.'" (On Campus News| Marken says university teaching headed in some wrong directions ) :: note :: . . . Marken was one of my mentors . . . taught me one class (Irish Literature) . . . one class was a lifetime of learning . . . the passion of teaching, history, literature, poetry & life of art . . . every meeting since that class is filled with joy & respect . . .
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:: note :: . . . thanks to the students & USSU . . . to be honoured with a teaching excellence award from the students is the greatest gift an educator may receive . . .
"Theatre, come to my rescue ! I am asleep. Wake me I am lost in the dark, guide me, at least towards a candle I am lazy, shame me I am tired, raise me up I am indifferent, strike me I remain indifferent, beat me up I am afraid, encourage me I am ignorant, teach me " (Ariane Mnouchkine | International Theatre Institute WORLD THEATRE DAY - 27th March 2005 International Message ) :: note :: . . . there is no greater spokesperson for today/yesterday/tomorrow . . . easter/birthday/world theater day . . . Mnouchkine continues to be visionary . . .
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at the edge at the seams where the fabric of life tightens taut the ancient lava and sea salt sounds a perfect long silence clearing the throat scanning the skies lips dry wandering a siren echoes incantations at the corners of the soul red
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. . . Mom becomes 80 . . . calm waters gentle winds warm skies peaceful days guide your way
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. . . students present a meditation of the way of the cross . . . the snowbound road rolls slowly cut-up & stretched-out a residue of an aborted journey foreshortened & retracted privately exhausted, publicly disappointed fields flow eeriely too far over an inherent cemetery emptiness pointing to a blindspot a deadend
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heartscraps secret scarred skin in a false snow night stammering with pierced throat thin scatched we lay beneath the permafrost lightshards scattered blinding the visiondrifts ( Writings )
Students at Holy Cross High School performed Joseph Heller 's Catch 22 with maturity and grace . . . the humour was mindfully understated as demanded by this morally serious and dark comic masterpiece . . . characterizations of Yossarian and his many antagonists varied from sketchy & scurrile to bold & broad . . . impressive pacing . . . actors flowed across the stage effortlessly creating an epic feel to the many vignettes . . . Heller would have approved . . . although individual performances shone it was the ensemble which took us to the horrible bitter confusion which embraces the body of a war run by lunatics and shysters . . . the concluding feverish nightmare infected us with the themes of greed, guilt, fear and paranoia like an absurd virus . . . the grey crumbling walls depicted the bleak background perfectly . . . perhaps a little more attention to the minimal props could have deepened the satire . . . projection and technical precision develop with experience