Monday Talking About Saturday; NYC has MOMA, Muncie Has DOMA

Today there was a late start. However, I did get a new computer ordered (if I have not screwed it up) and to see a movie, Rental Family. Since I went too long catching up with this past Saturday. I will write about the movie later.

This morning, I wanted to mention my working through The Snowflake Method Explained: A Step-by-Step Approach to Outlining Your Story (No Film School). I hope I am not hiding procrastination behind a neurotic desire for preparation. 

I also read Giant Steps: The Boo Radleys (1993) - this Pitchfork review caught my attention because I knew the band's name, even though I could not recall any of their songs. What threw me reading it was how long ago was the band's time. Did I not know of them until prison and I had access to Philadelphia radio? There was this dislocation in my mind between objective time and subjective time.

Wishing I had Ray Davies' optimism, but I guess that is the difference between me in my sixties and him in his twenties.

 I read Anton Perfume’ by Kevin B (The Hemlock Journal, Nov 17, 2025) a very short, well-executed story.

Then I finished revising a story. I started on writing about Saturday.

I decided to get out this afternoon and go to BSU. I had a book to return, and I wanted to check out two art exhibits. Hey, I might as well do something different. 

It was a sunnier day than Friday. Which was good since I planned on catching the bus into campus.

Sorry about the first one, but this is the inside of Bracken Library. Where in my time there were books and magazines and newspapers are now computers.

The Teacher's College; Delaware County's tallest building.

The back side of the Journalism Building:

The Arts Building:

The North Quad, where I spent most of my time from 1980 to 1982.

There we have the DOMA of Ball State University, Muncie, Indiana:

This is the Arts Building interior coming in from Riverside Avenue:

Lighter coloring than what I recall from my undergraduate days. This from inside the art museum looking down to the southern entrance.

From the second floor, looking down:

The one I got to see was abstract art. Rather good exhibit, really. But it got even more interesting when the person who was monitoring the room decided to get up out of his seat. I had the distinct feeling I was benign watched. Not unsurprising really. I did look very scruffy. I decided to talk to him, and to my surprise he was a creative writing major.

Now, the reason for my subject line: I asked him who he liked reading.

He said he was reading a Stephen King novel.

Okay. That had to be for fun. I thought he likes horror.

I asked if he had read Toni Morrison's Beloved. Drew a blank.

I asked if he had read Clive Barker. Drew a blank.

I asked if he read Joyce Carol Oates. Same response.

He said he had not had a reading class for a while. Okay.

I asked him if he knew Cormac McCarty. He knew No Country for Old Men as a movie. The Road resulted in no response as movie or novel.

He said he had a minor in theater, playwriting was something else he did.

I finally found a name he recognized: Shakespeare. I also mentioned Marlowe and got no response. Not wanting to further disillusion myself, I did not ask about Arthur Miller or Edward Albee or Sam Shepard.

I mentioned Hemingway, but from his response I got the idea he had not read him (I mean, who doesn't have an opinion on Hemingway but the illiterate?)

And when I did mention Dickens, he had read A Christmas Carol - in high school.

WTF? The kid was a senior, preparing to graduate. How the hell is he going to write if he is so ignorant of writers? I have been thinking of what Ted Gioia has been writing about cultural stagnation. 

Am I being a snob? Am I expecting too much?

I gave him a tip on Joyce Carol Oates' “Faith of a Writer” and my email. I talked a bit about wanting to meet other writers in the area.

What am I going to do if I ask what they think of Faulkner, and they say who?

Not that I expect to ever hear from the fellow.

Thank you for letting me rant. I have more pictures of Ball State. These were taken as I walked from The Arts Building to The Village (that is, going southeast towards the eastern limit of the university).

From in The Village, what used to be The Pub:

and some other sights:

I could not catch a bus to shorten the return trip, and it turned out worthwhile. I would not have seen a tree growing in the street.

When I got back here, I ate dinner and worked through things here.

And that ends my writing for November 24, 2025.

sch