Scott Wolven spoke to our class today; I couldn't imagine a better class discussion with an author. Lots of good stuff.

Always curious about punctuation, Our Bold Hero asked Wolven about his use of commas. He reads over them very quickly, you see. Wolven fans take note: apparently they're breath commas (or less), and Wolven is using them to "speed up" the story. Strange, but it works once you're used to it.

After my classes were finally over, I rushed home to watch Lost. I decided to wait for the high-res versions, which was totally worth it, but that meant spending another day — on top of the week that's passed since the last episode — trying, trying to dodge Lost spoilers, with mixed success.

(There are no spoilers in this post.)

As it turns out, the worst of the spoilers was a false alarm: I spent the day disgruntled after accidentally glancing at Zombie Joel's Lost post, but reading it now, I realize that it was about season one.

And my favorite part of season one: the episode right before they open it up and the bees come out and they're all running away like "bees! bees!" And Hurley's like "I told you they were bad! Beeeeeees!"

This season's finale was a good episode though, a lot going on. They finally explained the "village" — Lawrentians know what I'm talking about. No really: think hard. I referred to it all the time.

I took some very revealing screenshots for hardcore Losties to parse:



If you haven't guessed already, I am militantly anti-spoiler. I think my aesthetic experiences are much better when I have no idea what I'm getting into.

Case in point, Josie and the Pussycats, which derives much of its appeal from the fact that people always think it will be bad, and are always pleasantly surprised. Sometimes I forget how low people's expectations are and preface the showing with a bunch of caveats.

That's why I hate trailers. Occasionally a very good trailer can make you excited for a movie you wouldn't see, but trailers always show scenes from much too late in the movie.

I'm going to see X-Men 3, hopefully this weekend — what more do I need to know? Psyching myself up for a movie usually only raises my expectations to impossible heights, and I'm easily dissapointed as is.

Adventure and excitement this weekend: I'm going home for Josh's graduation party. It means missing the MAPH cruise, a.k.a. "MAPH prom," which is a huge shame because now it's got all this buzz, but I haven't been home since Christmas, if I'm not mistaken.

And apparently I'm taking Jenna back to Chicago with me. No doubt we'll spend the seven-hour busride concocting an apartment chore-wheel that's tough but fair. Or deciding on a procedure for selecting each day's "secret word."

No replies from anywhere yet, still. If I'm ever the boss-man (again), I will make my rejections explicit. Keep a few people in limbo, certainly, so you have a backup, but tell the other applicants. It's common courtesy.

I mean, I appreciate that it's more convenient for them this way, but some of us have to plan our lives here...

Of course, excitement aside, I also have to write like three papers before Tuesday — thankfully, as I tell myself every morning: I am the Galactus of the short essay.

And when I'm finished, hopefully on Monday, I'll be done, done-done, a full week before graduation. It'll be like when I was here this fall, but with furniture.

Dishes, laundry, sleep... and I feel like a real person again.

So it looks like Graham's clever plan to watch the season finale of Lost during a Skype conference call is going to fall through. My schedule didn't really allow for it anyways, but I think the idea is a good one.

Though I should point out that the "fake drinking game that points out common occurences in a broadcast" is, and always has been, super-lame. Now, actually drinking when the president says "Iraq"...

If any Lawrentians or Brainerdites with broadband and a microphone want to watch together either very late on Wednesday, or anytime after 4:30 on Thursday, I'm still game. Skype conference calls are free and easy.

But let me know.

It's not that I don't enjoy, even sometimes prefer, watching Lost in a little cave of silence and darkness — it just feels like this finale is an event. I just might pull out the popcorn for this.

Maybe it's time that I accepted the fact that my sleep schedule has become infinitely malleable. I was up until seven in the morning last night.

Now there's a sentence.

Tonight is the Night of the Thesis. I have no worries, maybe I should but I don't. Honestly, I'm already satisfied with what I have. It's not as earth-shattering as I'd once hoped, but it's a good workmanlike effort.

I've been a bit of a perfectionist so far in my revisions. I guess I should speed it up, but this is my baby. I spent most of the weekend reviewing the research and digging wonderful holes to throw my free time in.

The plan is to finish the little stuff and then see if I need to add anything big. Biking to Kinkos is involved at some point, that's what I'm really worried about.

See, our program puts all the theses in a little cabinet, where they are never seen again, and I have to get my thesis bound. Very exciting. I'm also posting it on my little blog weblog, naturally. Even one cite would be cause for celebration: what liquor goes best with blogging?

But really, our program should follow in the footsteps of other schools (NCSU has some interesting blog stuff) and put the theses online as PDFs.

Or even Word files, if making PDFs is too difficult. (It's not.)

Advantages: it would keep up the pretense of usefulness, simplify the process of browsing through past theses looking for advisors and whatnot, maybe even encourage that process, and it would let maphiosi see what's expected of them.

Disadvantages? Well, bandwidth, but, honestly, I'm just talking about making everyone's work available, I have no illusions that many people will be interested. Privacy would only be an issue if maphiosi couldn't opt-out.

Ah. But... buckling. I should definitely buckle. Must revise thesis until it is perfect, until I'm on my third mug of crazy-orange-caffeine-tea and my eyes begin to bleed.

Good god, I'm hyperventilating. This is better than grilled cheese and mustard, better than S/Z and Lost, better even than coke and hefeweizen — I ask you, seriously, could there possibly be anything better than a Home Movies season 4 DVD with fan commentary by Modest Mouse?

I mean, the best season of my favorite show? My favorite band? Not even in my dreams had I thought to combine the two.

If you haven't watched Home Movies, you should. I actually saw the very first episode of Home Movies when it aired on UPN and... didn't like it. Abandoning Squigglevision in favor of Flash animation was a great move.

Still, you should try to watch the series in order, because a lot of the jokes depend on character development from previous episodes. If you're still skeptical, try watching episode 411, "Definite Possible Murder," a rare late-season stand-alone. Just... don't watch any other season four episodes.

After talking to Jenna a few days ago, and the whole "drinking" thing on Friday, I'm no longer panicking about this summer. If I end up in the Cities, everything is under control.

Well, not that I was panicking... I think my "panicking" is most people's "worrying." It's a good life. Actual panic is a feeling I get almost exclusively from threatening deadlines; in an emergency it can play a vital role in the writing process.

The thesis is not cause for alarm at this point either; I don't think I need to talk over anything more with my advisor or preceptor, and I'm hoping to finish the final draft by tonight. In any case, my mind is already on the future: this summer and wherever I go from there.

If three essays choose to stand in my way, they will be vanquished.

As you may have heard, I'm on some kind of survey sucker list now. Considering how little work is involved, it's actually been pretty lucrative.

And sometimes it's fun to see what questions marketers are asking. For example, the weekly-long radio survey I'm doing (very easy, because I don't listen to the radio) doesn't ask about Internet-only stations.

Here's an excerpt from this beverage survey I'm taking:

"You indicated that you are at least relatively satisfied with the following brands. Now, please tell us the extent to which you are delighted with each of them."

Redesign! I was inspired by Daring Fireball, which still looks much better. Although I still can't make that "white writing on a dark background" leap.

Long story short, I'm suddenly sick of the old color and image and layout. I'm not particularly fond of how the page looks now (I'll need to see some swatches before I commit to any color) but the change itself is welcome.

The rarely-updated metablog page looks much better than this, by the way. I'm still working out how much to import here.

I've also shaved my head again... albeit... not particularly well. But as I learned from the mirror-world episode of Sabrina — hair grows.

I'm stuck between time zones again, who knows why. I got up early to try to force myself back to a decent sleep schedule, but all that did was knock 50 points off my IQ for most of the day. I felt like a grouper.

By my count, I have had two good ideas all day, neither of which had anything to do with this paper I've been staring blankly at since about 10 this morning. O god, the paper. I want to write it but I can't think.

I was wondering the other day if there's anything going on with Our Bold Hero that I'm not aware of. I could be secretly sick, or super-secretly depressed. I mean, I don't feel that sick, and I certainly don't feel depressed, but I need something to explain the lethargy and this weekend's slightly bizarre 11-hour sackouts.

I've also had a cough since I visited Lawrence a few weeks ago. This might all be the Co-op's fault. Unsanitary paper cups.

Whatever's going on in my sinus and/or subconscious, this week promises to be pretty awful. The final draft of the thesis is due on Monday and suddenly I'm discovering more sources. I should hear back from a few places I've applied to this week, and the hope is that I'll finally know what state I'll be living in this June.

I couldn't tell you right now where I'd rather live, the Cities or D.C. I really just want to go somewhere, and stay put for a little while this time.

I've been in this limbo a few times before. You're still uncertain what you'll do during the encroaching summer, and the gap between now and then is steadily shrinking. The whole situation has a way of souring the promise of summer and school's end.

Summer on a college campus is one of the things I'll really miss. The campus feels empty without all that greenery, but with summer it's finally whole again and the place starts to feel like an environment.

Something I won't miss: realizing I haven't heard my voice all day. When you live alone and you don't have to go to work or school or to run errands and you didn't answer the phone and yes, you had a bunch of conversations but they were all on IM, then sometimes you go a day without talking.

It's very strange, because although I don't mind it — this day was lousy but that's because I spent most of it as another species — I still feel guilty afterwards. Call it the last gasp of my extrovert side. Extrovert Dan seems to think tired procrastinists have an ethical obligation to be social on a Monday night.

(And they would, if tonight was VR night.)

And today I did... nothing. I'd planned on going to our program's karaoke night — word on the street was that there'd be pizza and "extra beer," which is saying something — but, meh. No momentum.

Also, karoake is a ridiculous reason to go anywhere.

Yesterday: sushi buffet with the precept. Free California maki is all the deliciouser.

It's now bratwurst week in my apartment, thanks to a dubious "manager's special" at the co-op. I mean, ten cents apiece for delicious bratwurst! For a minute I thought the sign was some kind of street theater.

You know, one of those fake grocery store sales? You see them all the time. It's those crazy kids.

Food poisoning threat level: yellow.

My short fiction class was gun-to-the-head painful today. In addition to the usual nonsense from the expatriate Canadian otherwise known as Eating Girl — I would normally hesitate to criticize a student for being overenthusiastic, of all things, but she kept giving speeches that only gradually metamorphosed into questions, completely unrelated questions — we also had a guest speaker, up-and-coming author Daniel Alarcón.

I had a problem going into class because, well, I hadn't liked his stories. Maybe I just got a rotten batch, but "The Visitor" especially seemed to be nothing special, however clean and confident the writing. He said he didn't believe in "write what you know," but when you go beyond writing what you know, you have to rely on universal observations, increasing the risk that your insights will be banal or cliched.

Or maybe the problem is exactly the opposite? That when you're writing in a niche (stories about Peru, in this case), the banal seems new.

I really don't know what I wanted from this visit. What is he supposed to tell a class on "short fiction"? What is any author supposed to tell a class about his work?

Jay Rubin's hagiography Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words has a great story about a writer talking to students, which I dimly remember. Some of you have heard this from me before.

Murakami is guest lecturing at an American college, big lecture hall, for a crowd of students and professors, and finally he opens up floor for questions. A student stands up and asks him about the underground volcano in Hard-boiled Wonderland. Where did he come up with this incredible metaphor? What does it mean?

So Murakami tells the student "Actually, there are no metaphors in my work."

And this professor of Japanese literature who was sitting in the back of the room suddenly stands up and shouts: "Don't listen to that man! He doesn't know what he's talking about!"

We heard all about the history and biography behind Alarcón's writing: don't care, don't care. Most of it smelled a bit too much like justification. I prefer my short stories without little authorial notecards about where they came from and what they're supposed to mean.

Alarcon did have some moderately interesting comments about the writing process — "imagination plus empathy" is something or other — more useful for a comp class but certainly welcome here. Of course, after a little while I realized that, if I don't like his writing, then any advice he had about the process was probably of limited utility.

Also, and I'm pretty sure this isn't just because I'm a libertarian, some of the statements of this self-proclaimed "leftist" (those aren't scare quotes, for the record, but look sharp) were completely alien to me. At one point he referred to "the capitalist beginning-to-end order" of some stories, which he said he tried to avoid.

I took the lack of a collective gasp as another sign that I was in grad school.

I agree that this way of telling stories is sometimes too simple. But you heard it here: chronological order is capitalist.

Try to guess the economic systems that go with these narrative ordering techniques:

1. "Reverse-chronological" order
2. In medias res
3. Flashbacks

Eventually my invisible gun ran out of bullets. To my credit, I stayed for the entire class period, and most of the wounds were self-inflicted.

So after last week's Lost (spoiler threat level RED), I had the exact same impulse as Ben: this is crazy, I must work this into a post somehow.

As you may recall, I spent a looped-up night back in March trying to iron the occasional craziness out of Roland Barthes' S/Z, with some success I think.

Barthes uses five different "codes" to map a short story, and the most important (read: the coolest) is the hermeneutic code. Here's the famous diagram:



As you can see, the hermeneutic "sentence" begins with an enigma, presented in three stages as theme, formulation, and proposal (85). Some of that stuff can happen simultaneously, but the enigmas Barthes cared about (and this is a problem with his theory) tended to be long-term.

The fun part is the way that storytellers build suspense. Barthes lists these as "the snare (a kind of deliberate evasion of the truth), the equivocation (a mixture of truth and snare which frequently, while focusing on the enigma, helps to thicken it), the partial answer (which only exacerbates the expectation of the truth), the suspended answer (an aphasic stoppage of the disclosure), and jamming (acknowledgement of insolubility)." Even the end of an enigma, the disclosure, is cool, because it might open up new questions.

And just because we know...

Now that's ram this cool thing into another cool thing: last week's episode of Lost. This late in the season (not to mention the series) there are many, many enigmas out there.

But I'll only deal with multi-episode enigmas that appear in this episode, and since I'm not super-smart I'll only mention the snares I can see.

Also, there are many relationship-related enigmas but I don't care. Jack deserves nothing. Go watch the WB.

Now that I'm feeling "less shame" about this I took a bit to finish the last 10 minutes. So here's a rough layout of "S/Z presents Lost."

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (00:45)
Proposal. (Another one.) The show immediately recalls the question we were all asking last time, when he magically stumbled into the clearing.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (00:52)
Kate: "What's wrong with him?"
Partial answer. Something seems to be physically wrong with him.
Suspended answer. Ooo, he isn't responding.

Enigma 2: Is Kate "in on it"? (1:00)
Kate: "Jack, where are you going?" All nervous-like.
Equivocation. The creators are aware of this fan-theory, make no mistake. But is Kate nervous because Jack is sooo close to the Others or because Michael is sick? It's information but what does it mean?

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (1:03)
Jack: "Maybe they just let him go..." Jack looks around desperately.
Jamming. Sorry Jack, no Others for you.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (1:05)
Kate: "Let him go? They didn't just push him out into the jungle Jack. He's alone!"
Equivocation. An equivocation is both truth and snare. Michael is alone, but the snare part of this statement (the Others are involved) comes much later in the episode.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (1:12)
Promise of answer. Kate and Jack bring Michael back to the camp.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (1:48)
Formulation and proposal. Ana-Lucia looks at the safe in a meaningful way.

Enigma 5: Why did Ana-Lucia leave the force? (2:15)
Promise of answer. We know she's no longer a cop, we know she shot that guy, now her mom is suspicious. This whole sequence seems to promise an answer.

Enigma 5: Why did Ana-Lucia leave the force? (3:10)
Ana-Lucia: "Guess I should get a lawyer..."
Snare. Because she was charged with murder! A straightforward snare.

Enigma 5: Why did Ana-Lucia leave the force? (3:18)
Ana-Lucia's mom: "Look, we both know that this is going to be a dead-end investigation."
Jamming. Ah, but her mom says they can't prove anything! Back to start.

Enigma 5: Why did Ana-Lucia leave the force? (3:49)
Disclosure. She quit, there were emotions. You had to be there. End of Enigma 5.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (4:06)
Ana-Lucia is opening the safe!
Suspended answer. Looks like she's just bringing Henry food.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (4:35)
Ana Lucia: "I've been around a lot of killers in my life. You know what surprises me the most about them? How much that looove to talk. But you're different, Henry. Quiet."
Equivocation. So... special kind of killer, or not a killer? Cause that's key.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (5:11)
Henry: "You killed two of us, good people who were leaving you alone!"
Partial answer. I don't doubt Henry's sincerity. His interpretation of events hints at something, though I still think the Others are jerks.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (5:20)
Henry: "You're the killer, Ana-Lucia."
Partial answer. He's not a killer. You could make the case that we knew that.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (6:14)
Snare. She worked at an airport! Seems like a partial answer, but... it's a trick.

Enigma 8: Why did Jack's dad go to Sydney? (7:30)
Proposal. Re-introducing the question.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (7:32)
Jack's dad: "Syndey Australia. Wanna come?"
Partial answer. Jack's dad had something to do with it.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (7:40)
Ana-Lucia: "Why would I go to Sydney with you?" Skeptical.
Suspended answer. Looks like she's going to drag this out.

Enigma 8: Why did Jack's dad go to Sydney? (8:10)
Jack's dad: "What I'm doing down there could be a little dangerous."
Snare. Lies from Jack's dad. Shock.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (8:12)
Jack's dad: "And I need someone to protect me. A, uh, bodyguard."
Partial answer. Jack's dad said he needed protection.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (9:35)
Ana-Lucia: "I'm fine, but he won't be."
Partial answer. The hurt is coming Henry. But how?

Enigma 9: What does the drawing on the security doors mean? (10:00)
Locke is looking at the doors.
Proposal. Introducing the question again.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (10:30)
Henry: "Because you're one of the good ones, John."
Partial answer. He wanted to protect Locke.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (11:38)
Locke: "Why would your own people want to kill you?"
Henry: "Because the man in charge... he's a great man John, a brilliant man... but he is not a forgiving man."
Partial answer. They are led by a brilliant man.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (12:08)
Henry: "I was on my way here John. I was coming for you."
Partial answer. He was sent to get Locke.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (12:15)
Kate and Jack call Locke and he has to leave.
Suspended answer. I guess we'll have to hear the rest later.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (13:00)
Ana-Lucia: "I need a gun."
Partial answer. She's trying to get a gun, Henry. Start praying.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (13:21)
Sawyer: "Here's another idea: scram."
Suspended answer. Getting the gun is difficult, maybe she won't get one.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (14:00)
Suspended answer. We don't really know why, but she's there now I guess.

Enigma 8: Why did Jack's dad go to Sydney? (15:37)
Jack's dad: "I'd like to see my daughter" (muffled)
Disclosure. To see his daughter. End of Enigma 8.

Enigma 10: Who is Jack's half-sister? (15:37)
Theme, formulation, proposal. Geez! Should I recognize her mother?

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (18:10)
Locke: "So it was just a coincidence that he came out?"
Jack: "I was shouting, he heard my voice."
Equivocation. Jack speaks the truth... but Locke is right to be skeptical.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (18:12)
Jack rags on Locke for thinking the Others would just let Michael go.
Snare. Jack says: don't be stupid Locke, believe in crazy coincidence.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (19:00)
If there's one thing I've learned from television, it's that southern men are basically animals.
Partial answer. It takes forever, and is lame, but Ana-Lucia has a gun now.

Enigma 10: Who is Jack's half-sister? (20:30)
Jack's dad: "She is a very long story, Sarah."
Jamming. No answers here.

Enigma 8: Why did Jack's dad go to Sydney? (21:00)
Jack's dad: "I'm here because I can't apologize to my son."
Snare. The Enigma is solved, but Ana-Lucia doesn't know that and tries to find out by asking.

Enigma 7: Why did Ana-Lucia go to Australia? (21:07)
Jack's dad: "You came here for the same reason I did, kiddo. You ran away."
Disclosure. That's why. Also, emotions and backstory.

Enigma 11: Why was Ana-Lucia on the plane? (22:13)
Ana-Lucia: "Let's just go, go back."
Disclosure. The question we have about everyone is answered for Ana.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (25:17)
Kate: "Jack! I think he's waking up!"
Promise of answer. Now he'll tell us everything.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (25:40)
Partial answer. His head hurts, he doesn't seem to remember last night.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (25:54)
Michael: "I found them."
Equivocation. Given the end of the episode we have no reason to believe all of this speech, though some of it could be true. Note the look on Kate's face; she knows about the makeup and yet Michael doesn't seem to.

Enigma 12: How are they going to get off the island? (26:50)
Jack: "And the boat?"
Michael: "I didn't see it."
Jamming. But there are no stupid questions, Jack. Keep trying.

Enigma 13: Where is Walt? (26:58)
Michael: "No... but I know he's there."
Partial answer. A little better.

Enigma 14: Where are the other kids? (26:58)
Michael: "No, no, no kids. But I think they're in the same place as my boy."
Partial answer. Another bit of hope.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (27:18)
Michael: "They have a hatch. It's a set of metal doors leading under ground. What else could it be?"
Partial answer. The Others have yet another hatch. You could argue that we knew this.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (27:18)
Michael: "Most of them are old and half of them are women"
Partial answer. This may all be lies, but keep talking Michael.

Enigma 1: What happened to Michael? (27:48)
Michael: "I couldn't save them. So I came back to tell you."
Snare. Lie, prettymuch any way you slice it.

Enigma 9: What does the drawing on the security doors mean? (28:11)
Locke is sketching something, presumably still trying to make sense of the drawing.
Suspended answer. Of course, we don't get to see those sketches.

Enigma 6: Who is "Henry Gale"? (29:18)
Jack: "These people are liars, John. Why should we take their word on anything?"
Jamming. At least if you, like John, seem to think we can just discount Henry because Jack says so.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (29:44)
Ana-Lucia says she'll say, she even says "give Sawyer my best" to remind us about the gun.
Promise of answer. She's up to something! Another glance at the safe.

Enigma 15: Why was Libby in the hospital (31:23)
Hurley: "Hey, maybe if I get drunk enough I'll remember where I know you from!"
Promise of answer.

Enigma 16: Who dunnit in "Bad Twin"? (31:58)
Sawyer: "I'm about to be the first and only guy to find out whodunnit."
Theme, formulation, proposal, promise of answer. He's only 10 pages away!

Enigma 16: Who dunnit in "Bad Twin"? (32:10)
Jack torches the final pages while on his trusty highhorse.
Jamming. Now only viewers who buy "Bad Twin" will know?

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (32:46)
Sawyer discovers that his gun is missing. Slow viewers catch up.
Partial answer. Yes, she has his gun. Thanks for joining us.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (33:00)
She readies the gun, opens the safe...
Partial answer. Looks like she's going to shoot him.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (33:30)
She asks him to cut himself loose. "Why?" "You know why."
Equivocation. Really, "so you can shoot me" isn't the first thing I thought.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (34:15)
Henry: "Goodwin. Yes, he told us all about you. How he thought you were worthy, how he could change you..."
Partial answer. More info on the Others as exclusive club.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (34:40)
Ana: "He was gonna kill me."
Henry: "Was he?"
Partial answer. If Goodwin wasn't planning to kill Ana, the survivors have some serious misconceptions.

Enigma 3: Who are the Others? (34:55)
Ana: "Are you done?"
Jamming. No more revelations from Henry, and Ana is keeping her misconceptions.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (35:15)
Snare. She's going to shoot him, but will she do it, will she be stopped?

Enigma 17: Will Ana and Jack find out that Jack's dad is "Tom"? (35:30)
Ana listens to Jack at the airport and looks thoughtful.
Theme, formulation, proposal.

Enigma 17: Will Ana and Jack find out that Jack's dad is "Tom"? (35:58)
Ana takes out her phone.
Snare. She's not thinking of Tom, she's thinking of her mother.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (37:45)
She's playing with the gun, Micheal hasn't heard any gunshots.
Suspended answer. We don't know what happened or why yet.

Enigma 4: What will Ana-Lucia do to Henry? (38:09)
Ana: "Too bad I can't use it"
Disclosure. She can't kill Henry, he's still locked up. Speech.

Now the interesting thing about what happens next, what makes this episode so shocking, is that there are no enigmas at play here. Michael's suggestion to let him "do it" comes out of nowhere. This whole scene is very sudden and relies on what we know about the characters involved in order to work.

Enigma 18: What the hell is happening? Micheal? (40:40)
Michael: "I'm sorry."
Ana: "For what?"
Theme, formulation, proposal

Enigma 18: What the hell is happening? Micheal? (40:50)
Michael shoots Ana rather than answer her question.
Jamming. No confession, no justification.

Enigma 19: Is Ana going to be OK? (40:50)
Michael shoots Ana rather than answer her question.
Theme, formulation, proposal

Enigma 20: Is Libby going to be OK? (41:18)
Michael shoots her.
Theme, formulation, proposal

Enigma 18: What the hell is happening? Micheal? (41:50)
Michael opens the safe.
Promise of answer.

Enigma 18: What the hell is happening? Micheal? (42:10)
Michael shoots himself. No confession, no justification.
Jamming.

Enigma 21: Is Michael going to be OK? (42:10)
Michael shot himself.
Theme, formulation, proposal.

Even without relationship stuff, I counted over 20 enigmas in this episode. Everything with Michael was bizarre

It boggles my mind how good this show is at finishing hermeneutic sentences: compare the X-Files, where enigmas weren't so much wrapped up as forgotten or pushed aside.

Oh, tequila. I always think that things are good between us, but no, it seems that I really won't ever like the taste of tequila again. One drinkeroo too far...

Tonight I skipped the Strategist's play reading but went to the wrap party (a breach of theater etiquette, certainly), where I learned not only that I still can't drink tequila, a key ingredient in what this place called the "margarita," but also that rich chocolate cake does not go well with cheap Mexican liquor.

Tequila and I had a fight one night, and things can never be the same. This goes on the list of permanent reminders, alongside "Wikipedia is a sometimes website."

Wow, did I get sucked into Wikipedia this week. It's just so satisfying, I mean, it's basically editing and googling, two things I do very well. Plus, working on the Minnesota WikiProject has done wonders for my northwoods skillz. And employers: think of how much more dedicated I'd be if I was being paid for this kind of thing. Just saying.

The problem is that, unlike the other things I binge on — television shows and video games and, speaking of "sometimes foods" I did just bake that batch of cookies yesterday — with Wikipedia you can never, ever be done.

In short: lax week.

I'm not stressed about anything right now; even though I can still fill half an hour babbling about my issues with it, the thesis is going well and I have no worries. I'm running it through the Little Red Schoolhouse machine this weekend to see what comes out the other end.

And really I haven't spent much time this week sitting in my apartment thinking "blog blog blog," as I am so wont to do. I've no idea how I filled all that time (well, a full season of E.R. played a role), but it got filled somehow.

Hard to believe I've got so little time left here. One thing I'm looking forward to, besides the predictably warm weather in the big blue room, is doing the year-round stuff I usually only let myself do in the summer. Like reading sci-fi story collections. Nine out of ten nerds agree: nothing says summer like classic sci-fi.

Now usually I have a strong stomach for blog terminology, but something about the phrase "Dan's Metablog" makes me want to add "may god have mercy on their souls."

But I've been surprised by my interest in blogs, and I want to continue blogging about blogs on the side, after "Dan's research" will have become a misnomer. So... suggestions welcome. "Dan's blog blog"?

Better like this, or better like this?

I don't really have a visceral reaction to many words — I remember the disgust when the Politician's wife heard me compliment "goofy," as in "I rode it goofy-footed." I have a ton of favorite words, but there are a few terms I do dislike:

Decimated. Used correctly maybe 2% of the time. Normally I'd be forgiving of words adopting new meaning (etymological fallacy, etc.) but the deci- prefix is right there. Also, you mean destroyed. So say destroyed.

Progressive. I'm sorry, but I never had a problem with "liberal." Maybe it's because I'm from Minnesota, where Wellstone kept the word alive when it was dying elsewhere. I admit, "progressive" makes a good counterpoint to "conservative," but it feels like such a would-be mind-shunt. And if you have to abandon "liberal," presumably because Republicans have so thoroughly perjorated it that the label becomes a political nonstarter, well, how long do you really have until they do the same thing to "progressive."

Blogpack. A group of bloggers writing on the same topic. Ugliest blog-word ever; I'm glad it didn't stick. By the way: "Bomb the Blogosphere" T-shirts are hilarious. It's on my "five-figure wishlist."

Someday I'll feel comfortable wearing my old Blogger shirt in public again. Maybe if it fit better I could take the odd looks.

Just happens. Really a phrase, but almost always used for evil. If it's the most important thing about your subject, don't tell us he "just happens" to be a whatever.

Bright. As in "atheist." As in "let's get everyone to think we're smug jerks."

Maybe I'll come up with a best and worst word list later. Yeah, that sounds like something I'd do.