One Down....

I am exhausted. My Crim Law final was yesterday, from 5:35 to 9:35. I used the entire four hours to write. My laptop froze half-way, so I had to reboot. In addition to that, my wireless card wasn't working, so I couldn't upload my exam. The very nice computer specialist had to stay about twenty minutes to pull the exam off my laptop. Oy.

Back in the USSR

I just noticed that CCCP is the acronym of my four law school subjects, in order of finals.

Class Is Over

Now finals. *gulp* I have the following schedule:

Criminal Law Final - 5:30 PM on Thursday, April 28th.
Civil Procedure II Final - 9:00 AM on Saturday, April 30th.
Constitutional Law Final - 1:30 PM on Tuesday, May 3rd.
Property Final - 1:30 PM on Friday, May 6th.

So, that's what I've been up to, preparing for these. I'd appreciate if you sent some warm thoughts or prayers for success my way. Also, to those who I've been remiss in contacting (George, especially), my most sincere apologies. I'll try to catch up after the 6th when finals are over.

In the words of Stan Lee...Excelsior!!!!

Love,

Austin

Can't Sleep...Bed's On Fire

Man, I was trying to wind down, and just caught, on AMC, the end of the weirdest damn movie: They Live. It was made in '88. The premise is that WWF superstar Rowdy Roddy Piper (ah, 80's wrasslin' nostalgia) finds a pair of magic sunglasses which allow him to see the world for what it is. Billboards reveal their Orwellian subliminal messages of "OBEY," "CONSUME," and "PROCREATE." He also finds that certain yuppies, when looked at through sunglasses, have glowing eyes and a creepy, Skeltor-like visages. They're...ALIENS!!! Rowdy Roddy is soon spotted as one who can see after he gracefully pirouttes into a checkout line after insulting an old-lady alien with the bizarre nonsequiter "You look like your neck fell in a bowl of tapioca in 1956."

So, he kills some aliens-disguised-as-cops, and stumbles into a bank, delivering the most famous line of the movie, "I've come here to chew bubblegum, and kick some ass, and I've just run out of bubblegum."

After being thrown through a plate glass window and tumbling down a mountainside, he runs into his construction worker buddy played by reknowned character actor Keith "How'd you get the beans above the frank?" David. In his best Luke Skywalker fashion, Rowdy tries to get Keith to join his cause, although instead of inticing him with promises of great wealth beyond his imagination, he beats the shit out of him in a scene that goes on for twelve minutes! After some more ultra-violence, something else happens. Explosions, machine gun battles, witty dialogue, and Ah, I dunno. This was written and directed by John Carpenter. Wha??? Although it contains that special so-bad-it's-brilliant quality of movies like Eddie and the Cruisers II. It endeared itself to me. I shall watch again.

Wanna know something geeky? In preparation for my Crim Law final, to help pin down the law, I'm analyzing Alex and the Droogs's liablity in the movie A Clockwork Orange. Remember when Alex breaks into the Health Farm and the Cat Lady swings a bust at him and insults him? Think Alex has a colorable provocation defense to mitigate a homicide charge? Wanna go out on a limb and argue self-defense against the Cat Lady? Only the Model Penal Code and my Crim Law professor know for sure.

Ugh...I'm such a geek....

Down the Street

I'm at school working on my brief (conference at 2:00) and have songs from Big Star's #1 Record running through my head, in particular, the first three tracks: "Feel," "The Ballad of El Goodo," and "Down the Street." I've been listening to this CD lately while driving to and from law school. It's great when songs you like get stuck in your head.

"Hangin out/Down the street/Same old thing/We did last week/Not a thing to do/but talk to you."

Brief: It Isn't

I'm so glad I decided to overhaul what I was doing and re-read the cases again. I'm still in the process of pulling out so much more information than I did the first time. This brings me closer to my goal: inspiration. I'm the type of writer who appreciates inspiration, and today, after having read the fourth of nine cases, I furiously jotted down an outline of how the nuances can fit together. My mind just automatically gave me a picture of how it could all fit together. My brief conference is at 2 PM tomorrow, and I want to have my brief all but finished by then. I'll assuredly go back and look for grammar, awkward construction, cites, etc., but I want it to be over with!

I also purchased a guide to understanding Property Law today from my good friend Aaron. After the brief, I want to dig in and make sure that my outline in Property is up to snuff as it's one of the closed book exams.

Dig!

I've been obsessed with this documentary since I saw it at Circle Cinema last December after finals were over. It came out on DVD yesterday, and I bought it with the hopes I could watch some of it after I got home from school; I feel asleep with the TV on and didn't finish it.

The doc concerns the differing fortunes of two mid-nineties "next big thing" underground bands: The Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre. I was never a huge fan of either band, mostly because I don't have a kazillion dollars to buy every CD I'd like to, nor do any of the crappy record stores in Tulsa carry catalog titles by these bands (not that I didn't know the Dandys' "Last Junkie on Earth" and "Bohemian Like You.") However, I'd read plenty about them and was curious enough to go see the doc.

At the outset of the film, both bands are bursting with ego. Anton Newcombe, leader of the BJM, stares into the camera several times throughout the film, and, with the straightest face, proclaims how he's leading a new rock revolution with the Dandys that will completely change the face of music. This complete and total arrogance is so affronting that one can't help but be strangely nonchalant about it, especially as the filmmakers and Anton's crew seem unphased by his statements.

Of course, the band is hardly as revolutionary as they would like to be (who is?), but they don't suck either. Both bands are mesmerized by the 60s to the point of being as creatively pigeonholed as they are apparently liberated. The band names, of course, are the first hint to this epedimic and give clues to what each band sounds like. The Dandy Warhols are overly self-referential and poppy with a weird, savantistic alchemy which allows them to subconsciously rip off twenty songs at once and resynthesize them into an unsubstantive song that's all hook and no meat. The BJM, on the other hand, are a little darker and a lot weirder, but, as good a songwriter as Anton is, there's nothing inherently new or unique that would justify him constantly peering into the camera and berating his viewer into believing his brilliance, as if those watching were just more of his shambling entourage.

On second viewing of these scenes on DVD, I finally realized that the reason Anton looked the way he looked when he said these ridiculous things was not due to some charming affectation (like a little kid who hasn't yet developed humility), but due to the fact that he was completely out-of-his-mind stoned. Indeed, I imagine not many scenes go by where the members of either band are not on some form of intoxicant. And, duh, this is one of the big themes of the movie. So, forgive me for not having been around drugs enough to process when someone is on them. I should have known by the way that the musicians lacked profundity and laughed at whatever stupid thing came out of anyone's mouth at any given point. I was apparently too distracted by the brilliant cacophony of the story (as I imagine the filmmakers were) the first time to notice how inane everyone is.

I think there's this weird tendency of bands to feel that every gesture of "bandliness" they have when they're together somehow creates art. It's in the way that Courtney Taylor (leader of the Dandys) sashays as he drinks vodka backstage at a tiny, middle of nowhere club gig. Or when the BJM, at a Love's truck stop in the middle of the night in Middle America, feel compelled to do a rountine about all the useless knickknacks they can't afford. It's like all bands, however big or small, watched the Beatles, Monkees, and any other band one too many times on TV and just subconsciously has to put on an act. Just go to see some local, crappy band play, and marvel at how "clever" they think their jokes and between song banter are, or be amused by how they strut around the club after the show, cock-of-the-walk among the indifferent club goers. Rock'n'roll is strange, and it does this to people. A band organism conflates several fairly normal, perhaps insecure, musicians, and then it sublimates their normal personalities, and makes them victims of groupthink, groupspeak, and, what's worse, groupcliché. I've noticed this behavior myself in my limited band experience. I don't know what it is. Maybe the adrenaline of performing. Maybe the camaraderie of like-minded souls. Or, maybe it's the sheer ecstasy of getting just close enough to fulfilling a lifelong dream, and, what seems to be, in the moment, your single reason for being - playing music. So, maybe it's excusable. But it sure as hell can be annoying from a third-party perspective. Despite what I may have thought about their music, this is one thing I always like about Hootie and the Blowfish: they were regular guys. They didn't act like a band.

The "bandliness" in Dig! is exacerbated by the aforementioned drugs to the point that the BJM constantly teeter on the brink of oblivion. Courtney may be too good to deal with the label schmucks at Capitol Records as they jerk around with his singles and videos, but Anton is too good to deal with any label, on any level, period. In an attempt to secure BJM a deal with TVT Records, the manager (the second of three or four seen in the course of the doc) sends "Spokesman for the Revolution" Joel Gion in lieu of Anton. And Joel wows TVT and gets the deal.

Joel makes the film for me. He is so good, I can't believe it. Bands should have more members like this. Though he obstensibly "just" plays tambourine and macaras, Joel provides so much more: the heart, soul, and aesthetic guidepost of the band. So, take heart all you "unschooled" musicians. You don't necessarily have to be virtuosic to be good. Joel, bug eye glasses and wild hair, proves that one good idea is worth more than twenty techniques to implement it (how's that for an awkward attempt at an axiom!)

So, ultimately, what makes the film fascinating to me is the same thing that makes all behind the scenes art docs/books/mags fascinating to me: a glimpse into the creative process and working life of the musician/artist. My heart stopped at the concert scenes of early BJM - three guitars in full BöC glory, shambolic and rhapsodic as any rock'n'roll animal has a right to be. And, in the theater, it was LOUD. The 10-hour sets, barely provoked fist-fights, etc. reminded me of what Zappa's Mothers were, by designed image, supposed to be: a loose collection of freaks who showed up, plugged in, and, in the immortal words of Andy Warhol, left 'em wanting less. (In actuality of course, the Mothers were a highly disciplined ensemble. If they'd done anything like the BJM, they would've been fired on the spot). In the Louie Louie, Surfin' Bird, Wooly Bully, Sister Ray sense-of-the-word, they are true, unadulterated rock'n'roll. And the Dandys are OK, too.

Anton Newcombe complains on his website (which I read back in December) that the film in no way represents him as an individual. Sounding much like every unfairly-maligned reality TV personality, he says the doc is sensationalstic, taken out of context drivel. Even so, I still found it to contain some interesting truths, like the Mozart-Salieri dynamic that occurs between two friends when they both believe one is more talented than the other. On the other hand, though I enjoy it no less, I decry the stereotypes it perpetuates. We are continually made to think that "true" creativity and madness/social retardation go hand-in-hand. This is why people like Anton are given the ropes to hang themselves by those around them. This notion doesn't speak the truth to people, and it does the artist the greatest disservice of all. Would Anton's music have been any less great had he been able to keep a regular nine-to-five job, pay taxes, and be a "productive" member of society? Why the continued myth that certain people "can't" function like the rest of us. I used to think I'd want to be one of those who didn't have to relate to reality, but that's just some pipe dream I had when I was depressed; the idea is abhorrent to me now.

Thankfully, Anton, in recent years, seems to have come out of this bad behavior and is now more productive and social. On the BJM site, he takes umbrage that this "conclusion" to his story was left out of the movie. It isn't really, it's just that it's told only in voiceover and goes by so fast you don't notice unless you pay attention. That's another strange thing about docs, too, or any bios for that matter. People's lives don't fit into convenient three-act structures; Anton is not just Icarus, who got too close to the sun. F. Scott was wrong: there are second acts in American lives.

The Dilemma of Legal Writing

It's almost quittin' time. I've decided to overhaul my brief, and have gone back to re-read all the cases. This is good, because I'm picking up little nuances I glossed over the first time. However, I don't want to spend too much time on the brief as it's only a 2 hour class and finals are looming fast. Hopefully I'll have it all completed by the weekend so I can start memorizing my outlines.

Of the four substantive law classes I'm taking this semester, two are closed book (Criminal Law and Property); and they just so happen to be worth four credit hours each. So, to do well, I need to know the "black letter law" (legal rules and such) cold. You mainly do this through mnemonic devices and working with hypos. A good class outline should be well-categorized to facilitate this process.

Man, am I ever in my little narcissistic, law school-centric world. I apologize if this was not entertaining to read.

Fun, Fun, Fun

A short break to type this. I'm in the library (my second home now) finishing up a brief for my Legal Writing 2 class. The topic is whether or not a divorcee is allowed to remove minor children out of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to another state. You go through these cases with a fine tooth comb, and, after awhile, your brain turns to tapioca and steam whistles out of your ears.

Things are good otherwise. More fun in Crim Law today. This time, a more realisitic hypo, with variations, detailing the differences between the defenses of self-defense and necessity. Hypo: suppose a worker is being jointly attacked by a woman, her insane husband, and her 8-year-old child. All have machine guns. The worker has only a grenade (which he somehow obtained from the attackers' stockpile) to defend himself. If he lobs it at the attackers, he will kill them all. If he does not, he will die.

The question is, if he decides to throw the grenade, can he be legally justified if charged with killing the three attackers? The answer is yes. One has a right to defend himself against unlawful, aggressive force with equally aggressive force. It doesn't matter that the aggressors are mentally incompetent (the insane husband) 0r minors (the 8-year-old). Thus, the worker can assert self-defense. However, the worker cannot (most likely) assert a necessity defense. To assert a necessity defense, the harm sought to be avoided must outweigh the harm committed to avoid the harm sought to be avoided. In this case, the harm sought to be avoided (the death of the worker, a single life) does not outweigh the harm committed (the death of three: woman, husband, and child). However, the act of the worker defending himself is legally justified. (If one could argue that the attackers, if alive, would, in the future, kill more people, then one may be able to "balance the scales" in favor of harm sought to be avoided, hence the "most likely.")

In the first variation, the same situation applies, but, in addition, the worker knows that an innocent person in an adjoining apartment will be killed if he throws the grenade. The worker, in this case, is not justified in throwing the grenade. The model penal code allows one to take an innocent life if it is a lesser evil, but the balance of innocent lives (per the above necessity rule) does not tip in his favor. One cannot kill one innocent to save one innocent.

In the second variation, the worker has an aide with him, who is an innocent. In this instance, the balance of innocent lives would allow the defense of necessity; the killings would be justified.

A more precise analysis would be, though, to separate the attackers from the innocents in these hypos, and allow the diplomat to assert separate defenses. Thus, the worker could assert self-defense when charged with killing the attackers, and assert necessity (lesser evils defense) when charged with the killing of the innocent.

So, the next time you're in this situation, you'll know what to do....

Criminal Law

I LOVE this class. "Let's suppose that a tank was firing at you and you had a rocket launcher and can return fire to save yourself. As you aim, you notice that an innocent baby is strapped to the front of the tank. Can you still fire?" I won't be posting much until finals are over, second week of May. Here's to keeping my scholarship!