2005-06-16-pine-press

Pine Press

June 16, 2005

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More Inside!!!

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Next Issue’s Theme: S

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CINEMA S

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Send your stories, essays, fan-fiction, scripts, pictures, dramatizations, compatibility quizzes, Benjamins, novel excerpts, cartoons, reviews, event announcements, and embarrassing celebrity photos to pinepress@gmail.com by June 28 to have them included in our CINEMA themed issue.

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From the Editor...

Those were heady times, man, very heady times. I needed, what I needed was encouragement, not discouragement.

To feel a part of something, not apart from everything. When the food came I was hoping for new reasoning, not new seasoning. Very heady times. I would slide down the banisters of yesteryear like there was no post of tomorrow waiting at bottom to greet my crotch. But I did ultimately find no cautionary tale, no elaborate hoax waiting, rabbit-in-hat, to reveal nature and being. Very heady. So we careened, and careening we felt our direction to be downward, ever downward — so weren't we surprised by the sideways, the upways, the strangeways, the freeways. Weren't we impressed with the commodification of sincerity, of meaning? Hadn't we, that whole time, expected tremendous returns from each of our invested soul parts, from our lack of discipline, from the triangulation of each necessary angle? We were, it's true, looking then to find in each affable companion some semblance, some resemblance to what we had always known was true, so that we might not deny that truth, as we had so long, but rather in this affirmation, find confirmation. Space, man. SPACE.

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MSU Student Housing Co-Operative (SHC) 541 Grand River East Lansing, Michigan 48823

Board of Directors: Bower: Liz Deluca Elsworth: Fred Longacre Ferency: Annie Wilson Hedrick: Jack Langdon Miles: Mike Spradlin Mosier: Steve O’Connor New Community: Laura Western Orion: Will Roland Phoenix: Samantha Letvin Raft Haft: Dustin Hunt Toad Lane: Natalya Apostalou At-Large: Aaron Mosier

Executive Committee:

President: Arjun Jayaraman Executive Vice President: Ross Eames Vice President of Membership: Karon Hampton Vice President of Education: Mike Langdon Corporate Treasurer: Jess Dalman

SHC Staff

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One Who Runs the Show: Joan Bulmer All Around Good Guy: Evan Dayringer Mr. Fix-It: Stu Holmes

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The Pine Press is the bi-weekly newsletter of the

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The McCarty Fine Print

—Mike Langdon

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Back by Popular Demand:

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Contents:

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2 Next Issue’s Theme 3 From the Editor Point/Counterpoint: Star Wars 4-5 Read Fiction, Damnit: Excerpts 6-7 7 Just Past Twig

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Point/Counter-Point: Star Wars S

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POINT

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J.R. Buison

this should in wrap up the prequel portion of this saga (seeing as Episode Iv was done...oh 28 The Seeing viewsasexpressed Point/Counteryears ago), it brings the Star Wars saga "full circle". Therefore, I charge "Star Wars, Episode III" with successfully Point are solely those of the contributors. completing the saga George Lucas began 28 years ago.

Send all to pinepress@gmail.com.

Andletters Lucas does so, very succinctly. Now, I've been told by certain individuals (*cough* Evan *cough*) that I'm not really allowed to say anything about what happens. But, you do know what happens in the end, in that we see the creation of Darth Vader. How he got there, however, is quite the interesting journey.

And now a word from Yoda, remaining Jedi master: Fantastic and tragic, the story is. Go see it, you must.

This is usually the part where I talk about the musical score and action. The musical score was consistent with all other Star Wars films, very excellently done. John Williams is one of the best composers ever and does not disappoint with "Sith". Lots of thematic elements from both prequel movies are woven into this new score.

As for the action, if you're looking for a plate of action, I hope you come ready for the buffet. Lots of fantastic light saber combat for all Jedi involved. The most memorable fights are with Yoda and Obi-Wan, but I'll just leave it at that.

Ladies and gentlemen, Obi-Wan Kenobi, remaining Jedi master: *waves his hand* You will go see Episode 3.

Of all the prequel movies, I would say I had the greatest amount of concern consider the lackluster performance of the previous two. But, I have to say that Episode 3 does in part redeem what was done in both Episodes 1 and 2.

Finally, Darth Vader, lord of the Sith: You will watch it, or die.

Given all the evidence and character testimony, on the charge of successfully completing the saga George Lucas began 28 years ago, I hereby find "Star Wars, Episode III"...

Guilty as charged.

If all three prequel movies were like this, Lucas would have created the greatest movie saga ever. But, one out of three ain't bad. If I haven't said it enough, you need to see this movie.

J.R. Buison has more “Judgments� available at http://lone_wanderer23.livejournal.com

At Bower Co-Op Thursday, June 16 127 Whitehills Bring a Veggie Dish to Pass!

Tonight Only!

Semi-Monthly

Veggie Potluck and Hella Wicked Big Party!!!

Point/Counter-Point: Star Wars

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COUNTER-POINT

Serge Beventilps

starting to take dump sometime in the summer of 1977. Certainly sounds reasonable enough, The Imagine views expressed in aPoint/Counterright? Well, now imagine yourself completely constipated for the next, oh, let's say 28 years. Once it's 2005 and Point are solely those of the contributors. you've finally completed your business, you will certainly feel a sense of accomplishment, catharsis, or even joy Send allhave letters pinepress@gmail.com. that things cometo "full circle." Unfortunately, all you've really amassed in this nearly 30 year spell on the porcelain chair is a large wad of overwrought, self-important, shit. Ecce Star Wars!

Somehow deemed a "genius" or an "artist" on the basis of a dull nostalgia pic, a terrible Sci-Fi film, and Mark Hamil's greatest star turn, George Lucas has actually only directed 6 whole films in his entire career. "The Empire Strikes Back," which is the only somewhat watchable entry in this cycle of dreck, was directed by Irvin Kershner, who's other career highlights are the Barbara Streisand vehicle "Up the Sandbox" and "Robocop 2." But, I guess being bearded and fat makes you important these days in Hollywood. Just ask that large-fonted buffoon Harry Knowles.

But I digress. Despite the fact that Lucas somehow miraculously makes both Ewan McGregor and Samuel L. Jackson boring and Hayden Christensen has yet to give any evidence that he is completely literate, Episode III keeps getting fairly good reviews. Maybe it's the hope that Lucas will retire if people pretend to like this last episode. Maybe I didn't get slipped the mickey before watching.

And another thing. If you are going to say "John Williams is one of the best composers ever," it might be worth adding the caveat: "of shitty overblown film scores," because my pals Ludwig and Wolfgang may still own bragging rights in most peoples minds. Hell, he's not even at the top of film composers. That's reserved for Angelo Baldamenti and Ennio Morricone. But I wouldn't expect anyone who actually claims to enjoy Star Wars to know there was ever film before THX. Then again, it's really not worth arguing about. Children and virgins everywhere will continue to love Star Wars. And good for them. Heaven forbid they bother us.

George Lucas battling the dark side — the Hollywood Machine.

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In two weeks: Something 5:30 Else!

Wednesdays @ Bailey Park Soccer for Everyone!!!

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(Even you, Arjun.)

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Read, Damnit: FromWriters at Work: Excerpts

The Pine Press publishes excerpts from published novels without permission on the following premises: 1. These small excerpts, while infringing copyright, can do nothing worse than help the sales of their sources.

2. These excerpts are literary reviews.

3. The authors will never ever see the Pine Press.

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The Paris Review Interviews: Fifth Series

Edited by George Plimpton (Penguin Books , 1981)

[The following is from an interview with writer William Gass, first printed in 1977.]

In the book-bound alcove off the bare room where he writes when at home, William Gass gave this interview in July of 1976. Sitting in cutoffs and a t-shirt, sipping on a bottle of Ballantine ale, Gass, at age 53, resembles a boyish headmaster at his Sunday ease. When he talks, the small shifts of his compact body, the voice's inflections, and the mind's dartings reveal a writer harsh on himself and his work, though generous in his responses.

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Interviewer: Do you feel you are writing full throat now?

Gass: I hope so, but if I am a hound, at what am I baying? I am basically a closet romantic, a tame wild man. When I was in college, I closed the closet door behind me. Then, for all sorts of reasons, some artistic if you like, but at bottom personal as bottoms are, I became a formalist: I became detached; I emphasized technique; I practiced removal. I was a van. I took away things. And I became a toughie, a hard-liner. When I was in high school, I chanted Thomas Wolfe and burned as I thought Pater demanded and threatened the world as a good Nietzschean should. Then, at college, in a single day I decided to change my handwriting ... which meant, I realized later, a change in the making of words which even then were all of me I cared to have admired. It was a really odd decision. Funny. Strange. I sat down with the greatest deliberation and thought how I would make each letter of the alphabet from that moment on. A strange thing to do. Really strange. And for years I carefully wrote in this new hand; I wrote everything — marginal notes, reminders, messages — in a hand that was very Germanic and stiff. It had a certain artificial elegance, and from time to time I was asked to address wedding invitations, but when I look at that hand now I am dismayed, if not a little frightened, it is so much like strands of barbed wire. Well, that change of script was a response to my family situation and in particular to my parents. I fled an emotional problem and hid myself behind a wall of arbitrary formality. Nevertheless, I think that if I eventually write anything which has any enduring merit, it will be in part because of that odd alteration. I submitted myself to a comparatively formal, rather rigorous, kind of philosophical training. I stuffed another tongue in my mouth. It changed my tastes. It wasn't Shelley any longer, it was Pope. It wasn't even Melville, it was James. Most of there changes were for the better because, being a little older, I saw more in my new choices than I had in my old ones. But now, after maybe twenty years of not going near Nietzsche — of even being embarrassed by my youthful enthusiasms — I find him exciting again. My handwriting has slowly relaxed and is now the sloppy kindergarten scrawl I had as a child. I suspect the same kind of thing is happening in my work. I am ready to go in any direction. But I hope I've learned that the forms are inherent, that the formal discipline is inherent, so that when I want to start improvising I won't have forgotten how to dance. It wasn't until I was ready to come out of my formal phase that I began to read Rilke. Once I took my thumb out of my mouth — well — soon there was no dike. So now I try to manage two horses: there is one called Valery and another called Rilke. I remember I once compared writing to the image of the charioteer in the Phaedrus. Intellectually Valery is still the person I admire most among artists I admire most; but when it comes to the fashioning of my own work now, I am aiming at a Rilkean kind of celebrational object, thing, Ding.

[The following is from an interview with writer Gore Vidal, first printed in 1974.]

Interviewer: Where do you place Nabokov?

Vidal: I admire him very much, I'm told he returns the compliment. We do exchange stately insults in the press. Shortly after I announced that I was contributing a hundred dollars to the Angela Davis defense fund in Nabokov's name -- to improve his image -- he responded by assuring an interviewer from The New York Times that I had become a Roman Catholic...

Interviewer: Have you read Ada. Vidal: No one has read Ada. But I very much admired Transparent Things. It is said that the dumb Swedes gave their merit badge to Solzhenitsyn instead of Nabokov. Perfect example, by the way, of the unimportance of a writer's books to his career.

Interviewer: How about some of the younger writers? What do you think of John Updike, for example?

Vidal: He Writes so well that I wish he could attract my interest. I like his prose, and disagree with Mailer, who thinks it bad. Mailer said it was the kind of bad writing that people who don't know much about writing think is good. It is an observation that I understand, but think applies to Updike. With me the problem is S

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The Pine Press publishes excerpts from published novels without permission on the following premises: 1. These small excerpts, while infringing copyright, can do nothing worse than help the sales of their sources.

2. These excerpts are literary reviews.

3. The authors will never ever see the Pine Press.

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FromWriters at Work: The Paris Review Interviews: Fifth Series

Edited by George Plimpton (Penguin Books , 1981) [The following is from an interview with writer William Gass, first printed in 1977.]

In the book-bound alcove off the bare room where he writes when at home, William Gass gave this interview in July of 1976. Sitting in cutoffs and a t-shirt, sipping on a bottle of Ballantine ale, Gass, at age 53, resembles a boyish headmaster at his Sunday ease. When he talks, the small shifts of his compact body, the voice's inflections, and the mind's dartings reveal a writer harsh on himself and his work, though generous in his responses.

Interviewer: Do you feel you are writing full throat now?

Gass: I hope so, but if I am a hound, at what am I baying? I am basically a closet romantic, a tame wild man. When I was in college, I closed the closet door behind me. Then, for all sorts of reasons, some artistic if you like, but at bottom personal as bottoms are, I became a formalist: I became detached; I emphasized technique; I practiced removal. I was a van. I took away things. And I became a toughie, a hard-liner. When I was in high school, I chanted Thomas Wolfe and burned as I thought Pater demanded and threatened the world as a good Nietzschean should. Then, at college, in a single day I decided to change my handwriting ... which meant, I realized later, a change in the making of words which even then were all of me I cared to have admired. It was a really odd decision. Funny. Strange. I sat down with the greatest deliberation and thought how I would make each letter of the alphabet from that moment on. A strange thing to do. Really strange. And for years I carefully wrote in this new hand; I wrote everything — marginal notes, reminders, messages — in a hand that was very Germanic and stiff. It had a certain artificial elegance, and from time to time I was asked to address wedding invitations, but when I look at that hand now I am dismayed, if not a little frightened, it is so much like strands of barbed wire. Well, that change of script was a response to my family situation and in particular to my parents. I fled an emotional problem and hid myself behind a wall of arbitrary formality. Nevertheless, I think that if I eventually write anything which has any enduring merit, it will be in part because of that odd alteration. I submitted myself to a comparatively formal, rather rigorous, kind of philosophical training. I stuffed another tongue in my mouth. It changed my tastes. It wasn't Shelley any longer, it was Pope. It wasn't even Melville, it was James. Most of there changes were for the better because, being a little older, I saw more in my new choices than I had in my old ones. But now, after maybe twenty years of not going near Nietzsche — of even being embarrassed by my youthful enthusiasms — I find him exciting again. My handwriting has slowly relaxed and is now the sloppy kindergarten scrawl I had as a child. I suspect the same kind of thing is happening in my work. I am ready to go in any direction. But I hope I've learned that the forms are inherent, that the formal discipline is inherent, so that when I want to start improvising I won't have forgotten how to dance. It wasn't until I was ready to come out of my formal phase that I began to read Rilke. Once I took my thumb out of my mouth — well — soon there was no dike. So now I try to manage two horses: there is one called Valery and another called Rilke. I remember I once compared writing to the image of the charioteer in the Phaedrus. Intellectually Valery is still the person I admire most among artists I admire most; but when it comes to the fashioning of my own work now, I am aiming at a Rilkean kind of celebrational object, thing, Ding.

Yet another timely diversion from Natalie Marion...

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[The following is from an interview with writer Gore Vidal, first printed in 1974.]

Interviewer: Where do you place Nabokov?

Vidal: I admire him very much, I'm told he returns the compliment. We do exchange stately insults in the press. Shortly after I announced that I was contributing a hundred dollars to the Angela Davis defense fund in Nabokov's name -- to improve his image -- he responded by assuring an interviewer from The New York Times that I had become a Roman Catholic...

Interviewer: Have you read Ada. Vidal: No one has read Ada. But I very much admired Transparent Things. It is said that the dumb Swedes gave their merit badge to Solzhenitsyn instead of Nabokov. Perfect example, by the way, of the unimportance of a writer's books to his career.

Interviewer: How about some of the younger writers? What do you think of John Updike, for example?

Vidal: He Writes so well that I wish he could attract my interest. I like his prose, and disagree with Mailer, who thinks it bad. Mailer said it was the kind of bad writing that people who don't know much about writing think is good. It is an observation that I understand, but think applies to Updike. With me the problem is

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