I need to finish a paper today. And the roommate is acting weird, possibly concocting an evil scheme.



What an unexpected surprise.

On Saturday, K called me in the afternoon to tell me that my good buddy W was in town; they had been cycling around Burnaby Mountain and were about to attend a bike art show/street party. I made my way to K's house so we can all go together but. . .they weren't there! I walked over on my own and the boys arrived later, which is funny because they biked over, and little old me was bikeless. The party was awesome, especially the tank bike (two office chairs welded onto self-propelled homemade tank treads) plus other neat-o creations.

We drank too much, everyone danced like fools (except me, I ain't dancin' for no one) and we tried to take the five-person bike for a ride. Despite the creator's blessings, we were denied an exit. W and K doubled me back to K's house, which is fun and scary when inebriated, and was able to get a deal on our delivered pizza (gyros for the meat-eaters) when we discovered we were short by a few dollars. We woke up to T's glorious breakfast of fruit salad and homemade croissants (T totally thinks her croissants sucked, but I loved them! They were tasty! And homemade!) and after digging in K and T's garden, we were treated to a visit from C. Fun weekend.

Now I have to work on a paper. Hurray.


Spellcheck vs. Me

I'm waiting to see my English instructor, so I'm killing time in the library by making sure my blog is brimming with trivial details. I don't know her exact office number so I'm going to waltz into the English department and hunt around.

Anthropology class was fun, and we finished early! We had a quiz (I actually got to class to write it!) and I got 38 out of 40, that's like 95%-98% or something. I'm sure you folks out there have better math skills than I do. I would like to take biology some time, but I object to dissecting animals that were bred for that specific purpose. I've been meaning to send an email to the department head and get some information on alternatives.

Hm. I just remembered, I have history paper to work on.

J.(not me) called from the Learning Centre to confirm my interview. I have to bring in an essay and a research paper, plus a reference from one of my instructors. I got the reference, now I just have to pick two of my best papers. I don't have a true research paper, although my history paper from two terms ago may qualify (a comparative look at two non-fiction books) as a contender. The essay portion is not a problem.

I'm not reading anything too interesting, mostly school stuff and little snippets here and there. Still plowing through Stephenson, and reading some early twentieth century fantasy and contemporary media studies. Some Gramsci when I get a chance.

As of today names will not be written with a "." anymore, just the letter. The spellcheck has a hard time dealing with my flourishes.


Quick note.

My procrastination habit has seeped back into my life. I was wondering when it was going to show up. The day is totally wasted, and I have to grovel for a make-up quiz that I missed today. I'm in bad shape.


Just in point form.

I need to get some work done (currently on campus) so I will resort to point form in relaying an update on my sordid life.

1. School is going well, but the assignment crunch is just around the corner, plus exams. I'm going to look at primary source materials on the Sacco-Vanzetti trial in the twenties, and analyze my friend T.'s painting for social theory class.

2. I have to fulfill some doctor/dentist obligations.

3. I put in an application for the peer tutor job in Learning Centre, right here on campus. I'm scheduled for an interview next week. I've tutored before, but I only worked with adults with low literacy skills, not suave college kids. I'm totally up for the challenge; it's remarkable how many students have trouble writing essays. I mean, I'm no Shakespeare (more like a Byron) but even I know what a dangling modifier is.

4. In my last post, or two posts ago, I used the word "lurching" wrong. So. Embarrassed.

5. "Schoolwork is lurching behind me." That would be better.

6. My sleep schedule is back in black, now if only I can eliminate my bad eating habits.


Sorry about this, it's Sunday after all.

You know how you wake up early, like seven or seven-thirty, but you end up drifting back to sleep and wake up four hours later? If you know what I'm talking about, then you would get a picture of my morning. I admit I didn't exactly wake four hours later, but my morning was shot.

I'm currently drinking coffee, sewing up a couple of shirts, and planning to polish my boots (I only wear Blundstones these days) and do some homework. I have a chess date later; I'm trying to find a strong defense against R.'s opening.


bumblemumble. . .bumble, bed?

Fun day. Had an eight a.m. class, then headed to the comic shop to pick up Daredevil, Wanted, B.P.R.D. and Justice Society. Bumped into C. and watched movies. Had a veggie burger and beer for dinner. On the intar-net too long. Great big shout out to C. for taking me along. G'night.


September is a racy racecar

Fun classes today: poetry and archaeology. My poetry class is early (eight A.M. to be exact, that is soooo ungodly) and archaeology is at two, so I rushed home between classes and picked up some library books and ate lunch and washed my hair. I have tomorrow off but I will spend the time reading, doing laundry and dropping off forms to Financial Aid. Hopefully I can make the time to play some chess.

Stay free.


That's crazy.

So far I've had three different classes, with three different profs, and they've all professed (hehe) that individuals working in their field (anthropology, sociology and English) are strange, even a little crazy. Well, they are no more crazy than other folks working in a specific area, or have a unique hobby or something. You know who's really crazy? The people who kill and eat other people, and dance around wearing their victim's skin. That's crazy.


The world is a complaining costumed pizza burglar spouting film critiques.

Heh. I try to update this bad boy as much as possible these days, but with school work lurching on my shoulder (yes, I know - it's the first week and I shouldn't be whining too much, like those who complain when we turn the clocks back or forward an hour. It's only an hour people!) I often forget the important things: anonymous web surfers.

On that note, I just saw Spider-Man 2 again. One of the best super-hero film so far, next to Hellboy. I think Raimi had learned from previous filmmakers mistakes, like not deviating too far from the original story and adding some plausibility to the textures, colours and overall architecture of the film. Aunt May's house, Peter's apartment and Harry's penthouse all have distinct personalities that add a human dimension - they look and feel like living, breathing human spaces.

K. 's house got broken into again. That totally sucks, and it must be so uncomfortable staying in a house that doesn't feel safe.

Besides that, I'm about to dive into social theory and some archaeology. A big shout out to C. for coming over and hanging out with us. A truly fun guy.

Oh yeah, before I sign off, I should mention that we went out for pizza at Unc's (Uncle Fatih) and the pizza we had knocked Pizza Garden out of the ring. Little or no grease, generous and unique toppings, and now they have dessert pizzas. So, there is now a new contender - the place with no name downtown! Who will be emerge victorious? Stay tuned!


I *HEART* Vancouver

I've arrived home, safe and sound. I finished history class (which will be a lot of work, but I'm going to discuss The Triumph of the Will in class. That will be interesting to say the least) and took the train home. I picked up some beer and as I waited for the bus a woman informed me that because of the movie being shot, the buses were being diverted. So I walked down to see the spectacle and lo and behold, the Fantastic Four movie crew was setting up. What was weird is that Da Kine, the "head shop" in the neighbourhood, was busted, so the scene become surreal - a comic book movie set (a small public space was transformed into a park with a working water fountain) and a spontaneous pot rally were meshed together, with old hippies yelling at the cops and film crew members and extras hanging out drinking coffee or whatever. So I went out for curry.


A quick report:

I'm about to pick up books and eat. Busy day. Laptop came in yesterday and spent the afternoon getting it set up. Garageband is fun. See ya.


the first day, part two

We cleaned up, I picked up L., and the three of us checked out the Victory Square block party downtown. We were hoping to see our friend C., but alas, he was not there (where are you C.? We miss you!) so we headed to the pub for beer and veggie burgers. K. is an awesome dinner companion. When we finished up we headed to the park to share a Cuban cigar (courtesy of R. and G.) and watched the city live out its life.

There was some tragedy, though. On our way home home, L. and I saw a juvenile gull sitting in the middle of a busy road, and vehicles were trying to drive around him(er). We were wondering why the gull wasn't moving, and that's when I noticed that the bird's wing was broken. Then a SUV tried to swerve around the poor creature and just missed, bouncing the gull around. In a true heroic fashion, L. leapt into the road and picked up the gull and took him(er) across the street. Luckily, there was a security guard nearby who would take the gull and drive to the S.P.C.A. An elderly woman helped them properly tuck in the gulls injured wing. I remember some guy yelling "put'em out of his misery" and offered to do the grisly job, so I'm thankful that L. was there to save the day.

If you live in the Lower Mainland and see an injured wild animal, contact these folks.


the first day, part one

The first day of school.

All I have to do is write this simple sentence and everyone will understand the complex connations associated with it.

I'm still reeling from my last day of summer, that being Labour Day. Well, not the actual last day of summer, but my free-wheeling days are over for now. On Sunday I got a call for R., who has been on a two week expedition in Cuba with his lovely girlfriend G. They had landed in Toronto, and I remembered that I offered them our place to crash when they arrived, which would be around midnight. Unfortunately, their flight was delayed, and they may miss the last bus into town. So, L. and I, while at a lovely barbecue (thanks J. and J.) decided that we would surprise our friends and show up at the airport to pick them up. After our soiree L. booked a car and we made our way to the airport. When R. and G. saw us at the arrival gate, the look on their faces was classic.

The next day, after a leisurely breakfast, and a stimulating conversation (any opportunity for me to talk about the anthropology of narrative building is a good one) they left for the Island. Oh, I should mention that when I say (write?) Island, I mean Vancouver Island.

While we were entertaining R. and G., my friend K. called and we arranged to get together and rebuild the fence in his backyard. The fence has the ardenous task of separating K.'s house with the alley, but the sucker is leaning so badly he has to tie it down like a overactive dog. Minutes after R. and G's departure, K. and T. came by to pick me up. K. and I dumpstered some two-by-fours from a demo site nearby, and set off to work: we removed the fence and re-nailed it, dug four holes (two for each side of the jamb, the posts were nearly composted), nailed the two-by-fours to each side of the posts, poured quick-dry concrete into the holes then refilled them. The job about three and half hours. We were dirty, tired, hungry, and had rebuilt a fence using second hand materials.


If I were a superhero, this is would I would see.


What the heck?

I'm collecting the Hellboy trades, and I've started reading Daredevil. I sense a theme emerging.


Sad fly.

The laptop was ordered the other day, so I'm expecting it here in one to three weeks. Great.

Lately I've been interested in pulp sci-fi magazines, and their luscious covers. I found a neato site that has an impressive collection of pulp art. I have a small, nebulous idea for a comic or possibly short stories, that echo this genre's qualities. I see some potential for exploring gender roles, technology, and ethics in contemporary society. I want to scrap the film script for now and focus on the penny dreadfuls and the comic. For those who don't know, penny dreadfuls were the Victorian version of the pulp novel. They were serialized (some of them anyway) and, well, cost a penny. That's that whole Victorian/Weird Tales idea I had kicking around.

Hm. The cat just leapt onto my lap. I think he wants to type something:


So, if we take my kitty's contribution and isolate a few fragments:


Sad fly. Sadfly? I think the cat wants to be fed.