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23 July 2007
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23 July 2007
15 July 2007
If there is a climax to Manufactured Landscapes, it is the moment when Edward Burtynsky, the photographer and the ostensible subject of the documentary, explains (however weakly) his reasons for not politicizing his photography. Visual information, pure, noble, and free of bias—I felt the audience around me leap into a hushed rebuke.
1 July 2007
I have a godmother who I consider the consummate workaholic. She runs a care home, which is a demanding job as it is, but she lives as though there is no such thing as a spare moment—not as though there is always something to do but as though there is always something that needs to be done.
I have never seen her sleep. When I would visit her in Stockton with my family and we would return to her house after a late night, she would be immersed in some manner of household chore while we were readying ourselves for sleep. I would pass out on the sofa watching her shadow on the ceiling in another room—the only room in the house still lit at that hour. In the morning, she would be at the care home or running errands or otherwise occupied. The full breakfast she cooked and laid out on the kitchen table was already cold, and the more perishable items would be back in the refrigerator.
2008 December 25
Though I completed this chapter of my pop music autobiography in late September, a few weeks into my first semester at Georgetown, only now in the more apparent denouement of my existential crisis do I feel compelled to write its intentions, framed in the context of two gifts I received in November.
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