>More Flesh For The Nest<

K had a birthday recently. Tonight, I'm meeting old friends at K and T's place for a birthday party. Food, booze and movies, all wrapped up together in a warm, summer evening.

I have been friends with K for almost a decade. We meet for two reasons. First, he was going out with a friend from high school, who was still hanging out with me. Second, on our first encounter, he wandered into my bedroom without an invitation and asked me about the paintings hanging in my room. I figured, this is another guy on his way out like the others. We will meet once, then he will disappear like the rest. You know, it's funny. We bumped into each other prior to this meeting. I was in Nanaimo to see a show. I was with this Irish girl I liked. She once sent me a letter from Ireland, and at the time, it was the first letter I got from a faraway place. Anyway, I'm at this show for K's band, which involved a guy being eviscerated while sitting in a chair by a a guy in a mask and lab coat. After the show, while I was outside and smoking and arguing with a Christian (the crowd outside kind of ganged up on him), two guys were running around with Simpsons masks. They both sped past me, almost brushing against me. I believe one those masked men was K.

Since then, I've gotten high and drunk with K, but that's not all. He was gracious enough to let me crash at his place a few times when I was down and out, despite the fact I startled his mom at one in the morning. Later, we would be "roommates." After returning from Europe, he and T stayed with us for awhile. He felt guilty, but I wished they stayed longer. But K was, and is, far more than just reliable. K is a musician, DJ, activist, tech and scholar.

K will never hesitate to take the piss out of anyone. He will point out the inconsistencies the sentimental tripe that plague the way I speak and write. It's a cold, hard slap across the face, but it's one that wakes you up and let's you see what the deal really is. Sometimes, I need that. K is like the Zen master, not allowing someone to waltz through their life delusional, and subsequently, ignorant. But, K always has something new and interesting to say. His insights into art and politics, the very way he phrases his insights, are worthy of publication. It's a shame he hasn't lifted pen to paper more often. Whether you agree with him or not, he is rarely without a response.

My fondest memories are with K. Hiking up mountains or biking around Vancouver late at night, he is always up for adventure. And he lets me (occasionally, with good reason) play his guitar and drum. Yeah, it's just a snare drum, but it's fun to beat on. He wants to hear what you're thinking. He's a good friend, and always think of him when I'm need of adventure and debate.

Theatre and writing

C was just here (I know, I can stop writing my friends and families' initials and use their full name, but the habit is difficult to break so bear with me) and I am heading out in a few hours. This will give me a chance to run some errands around the house and work on the play. I still have all my notes from previous workshops, so I have something to work from rather than scratching my head and wondering what the audience will like. My telepathic powers have diminished over time, you know. The weather is actually lovely again. The breeze cools everything down, and the sun is not as bright.

Speaking of plays, I think I've figured out the logistical problems with my radio play (C, I believe, knows what I'm talking about) but that won't be until the current project has built some momentum. Apparently, I might have to wait a year or two before my first one is produced, so in the meantime I will work on the other one. That also goes for short stories and articles as well. I totally missed an opportunity to publish a poem while I was at Douglas (argh!) but I was told my short story will be nominated for the student journal. Have I mentioned this yet? I'll pretend I didn't. Being nominated doesn't mean instant publication, it just means my submission will be added to the pile and considered. It would be cool to leave the college with a bang, so to speak.

Oh my.

Do you love coffee?

As I wave, the cruise ship pulls out of the harbour. Red and white streamers gently descend to the water. A woman sobs.

I'm not entirely sure who took these pictures, so could the photographer be so kind and let me know? Last weekend I helped L at the Farmer's Market at Trout Lake. I mostly hung out in the back and took notes for my article, which was due on Monday. The scene was pretty busy, as customers came by all morning and afternoon chatting with L (she is very popular there) and asking questions. Since I was there I had to indulge in the local fare: fresh French bread, slices of creamy and delicate Bries and a rich Americano (my favourite). I loved the ambiance of the market. The bustling crowd, the sharp, delectable smells, the friendly banter among those working the stalls and the customers; there is a strong sense of activity and movement, nothing seems to be languishing. Granted, I wasn't that big of a help. I just lifted heavy items and occasionally talked to customers. My deadline was approaching quickly and I also had an exam Monday morning (which went fine) so I was little anxious. I'll be helping again on the 20th. For those interested, L works on the Yarrow Ecovillage Farm, and they have a website here. They have a stall at Nat Bailey Stadium on Wednesdays and Nelson Park on Saturdays. You get more information here.

But, yeah, I am totally stoked. Over the last I've made some new friends who are interesting and fun. I also had the opportunity to strengthen my relationships with my old friends, and you know who are! Just because I neglect to call folks doesn't mean the love isn't there, it just means I'm hibernating and I need a swift kick to the arse. I may have a spot at Terminal City, and I've been really busy with the writing. Like, a good busy. Not just writing form letters or grant applications or, potentially, porn. I've been accepted to the University of British Columbia, with compliments from profs at my current college. I received some generous scholarships. So I'm happy.

Today is my last day at Douglas College, both class-wise and work-wise. It's pretty quiet in the Learning Center. We're just cleaning up and filling in stats and just trying to get this dump up to speed. And, uh, to my lovely employers, I am currently on break. Yeah, that's it. I've written more than my fair share about his place, but I'll say one thing: I'm not going to miss trudging up that freakin' hill anytime soon.

^_^

Hey! I actually woke up kind of early this morning, which is strange for a night owl like me. If I have a day off with no pressing deadlines I just sleep. I get paid today. Nice. Oh, this is a picture of Nicky, the farm dog. I've mentioned her before so I figured, let's get her face out there. She is a really sweet dog: when you call her name and rub her belly she rolls around and snorts like a pig. Very cute.

Went out again last night with co-workers. I had a really good time, but around 11:30 I got really tired and just wanted to go home. My exam yesterday really kicked my ass (it went really well, although I got the first question completely wrong) so I guess I only needed a little booze and dope to return to normal. I'm curious how long people stuck around after I left. Now we have something to talk about while we clean the Learning Center and do up the stats, rather than just staring at people and guessing what they had for breakfast. I will itemize the rest of my life:

1. Did some sketches for a comic strip, and that was fun.

2. Scared and excited to have my script get a cold reading this month.

3. Over-population. What a crock. We don't need less people, we need people not doing stupid crap. Less stupid, please.

4. I have a long-ish list of food I want to cook, like an Italian dessert, some Mexican and Chilean dishes and some sauces I read about recently.

5. Currently reading Alice Munro's Who Do You Think You Are? and Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five, plus some ballads by Federico Garcia Lorca. All good reads so far.

Wow! I got a comment. Thanks commenter! And past and future commenters!

Okay. I admit it. I'm a tad hung-over this morning. I went for drinks with my creative writing class last night, which was really fun, but I may have had one drink too many. I remember trying to convince one of my classmates to transfer to university, so I hope I didn't sound like a tipsy creep.

I have a big exam tomorrow and I have to study like it's 1999. Wish me luck.

It is nice outside. Blah.

It's actually nice out today and here I am, stuck inside trying to finish my homework so I can take the rest the day off. The sky is perfect; cloudless and in a shade of pale blue. The wind is blowing, and it looks cooler out than yesterday. L and I watched the Pride parade and ate Lebanese food on the beach, and it was scorching. I had to retreat into Denman Center to catch my breath and cool down. Pride was lots of fun. The general vibe was decent, and there were a ton of couples out, queer or otherwise. I didn't get sunburned this time, remarkably.

Old Houses and Outer Space

This is only a test. I want host pictures directly rather than using a middle man, namely Flickr. I totally love Flickr, don't get me wrong, but this makes my life much easier. This shot comes courtesy of L. This was taken during our last visit to Victoria. I'm still amazed there are little gems like this building still standing in that town. One of the reasons I had to escape Victoria was because the town ceased being attractive. When I first moved out on my own I would wander around and look at the heritage lots near downtown. Most of them stood tall like proud soldiers, showing off their fresh coats of paint. Over time, the place lost much of its luster. Maybe because I was becoming resentful of the people around me, or the frustration associated with being an introverted bookworm.

But now I get share Victoria with someone new. L and I love walking around my parents' neighbourhood and beyond, commenting on the houses we pass by or the little coffee shops and such we see on our travels. Victoria is especially nice in the spring, when a gentle breeze blows in from the ocean, shaking the new, green leaves on the trees. I loved walking along the beach and smelling the salty air and kicking sand around. I think when you walk away from a place like Victoria, and then return with someone who has a fresh pair of eyes, all that is charming and gorgeous comes creeping back.

A little off-topic: I'm concerned about our species' growing curiosity with Mars (see previous post) and whether water is available. Obviously, colonization is on the horizon. The most common argument I've heard is "we should worry about our problems here on Earth before we got shooting rockets out into space," and I agree. There are people starving to death on this planet. Sending humans to Mars while others watch their families die from famine, disease and war is morally wrong. Billions of dollars are spent on building bigger, faster engines rather than attempting to rebuild devestated nations and economies. Proponents of the current space program point to simple human curiosity, we are an intelligent (sort of) species who naturally want to walk on the red sands of Mars because of scientific interest. Projects propelled by humanity's curiosity should not take precedence over humanity's well-being. Most scientists the world over would agree with that notion, assuming of course they are the secular humanists I hope they are. And, the naturalistic argument makes my teeth hurt. Any claims of "naturalistic" characteristics in human behaviour are either twisted to fit an ideological argument or just plain wrong. I suppose I'll have more to say about this later on.

What was the public attitude toward the first Moon landing? I suppose, like any epoch, citizens had diverse opinions on topical events. However, I've noticed there is little documentation or representation of those who opposed the space program in 1969.

Water on Mars?

I was looking through Boing Boing this morning and found an interesting report from the European Space Agency. The possibility of the ice found in the crater being carbon dioxide is unlikely, because the carbon dioxide has already vanished in the same region.

Hell-o

There is something to getting old. Now, I'm not old, but I'm older. And that means, yes, a birthday has come and gone and it gets me thinking about mortality. If I'm going to age, and I'm going to stick around for awhile, I might as well age like my favourite wine. A thickened body, a smooth, complex taste and a certain dignity that no one can clearly point at, but just knows it's there. That means sticking to my French diet: drinking nothing but water and wine, and eating smaller portions. And walking everywhere and watching people and listening to their conversations. Continue carrying a notebook everywhere. Observe cat behaviour. Walk with my hands in my pockets. Get a haircut. Neglect to shave. Take many baths. If drugs appear on the scene, ingest said drugs and put on music or write or draw. Read more. Read more. Discontinue relationships that will eventually cause suffering. I know, life is suffering, but I really need a break. Don't be ashamed when I blurt out how much I love someone. Blush, often. Brush my teeth. Ride my bike. Buy a new bike. Write a poem and give it to a stranger or leave it on the train (and try to get friends to simply call the Skytrain a "train," as in "we took the train downtown and went out for coffee and firecrackers") for someone else to read. Less is more and more is less.

I'm taking Wednesday afternoon off, then finish my homework in bed. Take that, subconscious fear of failure and/or success!

The Future.

All my assignments are finished. All I have to do for the next week is edit, edit edit. I also have to write an article for the paper, and I'm trying to figure out what exactly I'm going to discuss; probably some reviews of upcoming books. I suppose there's lots to talk about after the San Diego Comic-Con, so I might dig around for juicy gossip and previews of new comics.

What I really want to do is review poetry. Not that I don't like reviewing comics (I will probably keep it up during my tenure at UBC, since I learned how to receive free comics for review) but in my heart of hearts I would like to devote three to five hundred words on poetry, maybe on a monthly basis. I'm not sure if there are any venues for this sort of writing at the student level. Students can contribute to papers and journals, so perhaps there's some space in those publications. I'm just stoked to be writing on a regualar basis again. Also, I'm going to try out for editorial positions whenever they come up.

The 3 Variable Funny Test

the Wit (73% dark, 21% spontaneous, 16% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean you're pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most effort to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. Also, you probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 88% on dark You scored higher than 11% on spontaneous You scored higher than 0% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on OkCupid Free Online Dating

My gut wins again.

Ugh. I'm not feeling too hot. And, I have a very long paper (well, the draft anyway) due Tuesday. I'm just over-tired and congested and my kitchen looks like the aftermath of a train collision. With trains filled with grease. I'm going not into work tomorrow. I need my body back, thank you.

Other than that, I'm counting down the days until school is finished and I get to spend the month doing what I want. And by that, I mean sleeping and writing. Right now, I can smell wood smoke wafting into my office, followed by a deep aroma of barbecued meat. Being a veggie, I'm surprised that scent triggers rich memories of summer. I remember when I was a kid I would watch the ribs roast on the grill, all smothered in barbecue sauce; I really need to replicate the sensation of grilling meat on a fire. Marinated tofu? Gluten? Maybe mixing up a batch of sauce using liquid smoke? I just found another activity for August: grilling.

R.I.P. Alfie

Alfie
Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Earth, receive an honoured guest.
W. H. Auden

On Tuesday, July 19, 2005, at around 2:00 PM, our beloved friend Alfie passed away. His health was rapidly declining, so my parents thought it would be appropriate if he were put down.

Alfie was a member of our family for almost twenty years. In that time, he traveled across the country from Ontario to British Columbia, lived in a tent for month and mentored many younger cats who had the fortune of being adopted by my family. On the day of his passing, tenants in my parent's apartment building lit candles in his honour. On Wednesday, a small memorial was held to celebrate his life. Alfie spent most of his time hanging out in the building's foyer, and many people would often stop by and say hello to him. Even past tenants sent their condolences and flowers to my parents. He was a well-loved cat; his warm, friendly personality made him an instant charmer, especially with the ladies. His cool demeanor was his most enduring quality. Alfie could sit on a window ledge all day and be content just watching the world slip by. You could count on him to sit on your lap when you were feeling blue, or cozy up to you in bed to keep you company.

Alfie lead a unique life. He was born in a woodpile behind my dad's work, and the employees took in his brothers and sisters. When we decided to adopt one of the kittens, my dad tucked Alfie into his checkered lumberjack jacket, and rode the subway back to our apartment. I was only around ten years old at the time. I'll never forget the first time we met: I was watching television, sitting on the floor with my shoulders resting against the coffee table. Suddenly, I felt a warm, furry something brush up against my neck. I turned around, and there was Alfie. Originally, his name was Alf, named after the television show of the same name (I was an avid watcher back then) but over time his name became Elf, Elfie, then Alfie. Well, at least that's what I called him. He was a constant companion while I was growing up. I will miss our time together; playing with string for what seemed like hours, having him snooze on me while I read, or talking to him late at night. Even after I moved out, he was always there, hanging out in the foyer greeting passer-bys, always open to a scratch behind the ears. He was such a sweet boy, and I miss him terribly. We know, Alfie, that wherever you are, you can finally rest.

Bowen Island, food and the soccer ball and the sea.

I have to leave shortly and pick up some food items before it gets too late, so this entry may have to be a two-parter.

Saturday was lots of fun. I woke up early, drifted back to sleep then woke up again just shy a few minutes from my departure time. I'm terribly fast at getting ready. The only setback was my ferry ticket: I left it on the dryer. I didn't realize what had happened until I was on the bus heading downtown, and that nauseating panic that creeps up from my belly returned, in spite of my self-assurances that my co-worker had a book of tickets with her. I was right. When I met my co-workers she did, in fact, have the spare tickets tucked into her bag. It wasn't that big a deal, but to make the trip interesting, adding some drama to a mundane experience makes mornings bearable.

The day was great. We sat around on J and P's porch, which a gorgeous view of the water and surrounding, um, islands. I really didn't know the local geography, so from the porch it was hard to tell where everything is located. I swore I saw some of the North Shore mountains. Anyhoo, some people swam, whereas I found a shady spot on the beach and read Federico Gracia Lorca's Songs and Ballads, translated by Robin Skelton(!), who taught English at the University of Victoria and was a practicing Wiccan. The rest of the day was spent eating (tabouli, macaroni salad with apple slices; the delightful summer fare that I've denied myself for sometime now) drinking beer, and kicking the soccer ball around on the beach. The damned ball kept ending up in the drink, and I had to wade in to retrieve it. Right now, looking down my hallway from my office, and I can see my socks still drying in the bathroom.

Which reminds me: we were half an hour early to meet the ferry back home, so we kicked the ball to each other in a park beside the marina. Well, the ball made it back into the water, but it was near impossible to grab it in the conventional matter. The water was too deep and the ball was a good distance away. The ferry was slowly making its way into the harbour. One of my co-workers grabbed a brush and pan used for sweeping up litter in the park. They were attached by a length of rope. He then stood in the middle of a bridge that allowed pedestrians to walk onto the dock, right under the soccer ball. He lowered the broom/pan, and swung. The pan knocked the ball back to shore, where I had climbed down to fetch it before it floated away again. When I tossed the ball back up, the person at the top waiting to catch the ball nearly missed it, and scrambled to grab it before it returned to the sea. I don't know what is up with my new soccer ball, it really wants to explore the ocean depths or something. Too bad its incredibly buoyant.

I just registered myself in courses for next semester and the following semester. The University of British Columbia will never know what hit'em. I'm in mostly English and sociology courses, and one linguistics course. The literary theory course is full, so I'm on the waitlist. Luckily, the class doesn't start until next semester, so by that time I will have the bureaucracy figured out and maybe I can shmooze myself into the classroom.

Looking forward to Bowen Island: I picked up the soccer ball (along with some comics; Walking Dead, Albion, New Avengers and Desolation Jones) and I'm going to prepare by doing as much homework as possible, while totally disregarding the mountain of dishes in my kitchen.

It is a relief and joy to finally post something. I feel a mild itch whenever I am away from the computer for too long, thus marking my first stages of addiction. But what a sumptuous affliction it is; staring at the monitors gentle glow as I type reports to a largely unknown audience, if there is an audience at all. Blogging is much like having a radio show. You transmit yourself through invisible waves across the globe, in hopes of reaching another person, as if you're talking to yourself. To ease myself back into a regular routine, some itemized entries concerning yours truly:

1. This blog is a year old. Hooray.
2. Last weekend, being this confederacy's birthday, my good buddy W dropped by unexpectedly with his lovely girlfriend K (or C, I'm not sure how she spells her name) plus mountain bikes and other supplies required for urban adventuring. They had been driving around the province for two weeks, hiking and biking and checking stuff out. We hung out at the local bar, biked for three and half hours around Vancouver (one the highlights being the alleys behind Granville, as we raced along dodging pedestrians and cars) with W's dog S following along. The weekend was a blur, since the booze kept coming, courtesy of W. My cat had a field day spanking W's dog repeatedly. I miss him already.
3. School is coming to a close, and my last semester has been a memorable one. I've taken a lot in since I've been here, and found the confidence I was sorely lacking. I'm ready to enter university, but the sheer size of the institution still intimidates me. I rediscovered my love for literature, writing, and generally just arguing over the finer points of social theory and language. Academia is one of the few places were nitpicking is considered good form. I'm stoked to take my first linguistics class, as well as literary and social theory classes.
4. I had a birthday recently. Thanks to J and J for hosting and supplying the needed ingredients for an evening of talk and food. And booze. We had a great discussion on the problems with contemporary activism and its preoccupation with identity politics, or, the fact that grassroots organizations are ineffective is its insecurity with its member's origins and intentions. Discuss among yourselves.
5. I'm picking up a soccer ball on Wednesday as a gift from myself, and will try to get a game going on the 16th; I'm spending the day on Bowen Island, where one of the faculty members has a cabin, and some of the staff will be barbecuing and enjoying the surroundings.
6. Some photos I've posted were taken by L, not me, and I will give due credit in the future. Also, L has made a website devoted to her graduate work, and if you're interested in urban exploration and photography you should swing by and say hello. For some reason, the site doesn't appear on Explorer, so if you have alternate browsers (Safari or possibly Firefox) then there shouldn't be a problem. Speaking of photos, I've contributed some shots to the Space-Invaders project on Flickr. If you're a member, go and have a look.

Dodgy zombies.

Just had an argument over the validity of the supposed "zombie dogs." The research center where the experiment took place is real, as is the type of research they do, namely resuscitation and cryogenics. Whether or not the actual procedure described in the story is factual is left to be seen.

Even if I was reactionary, I only have to remind my opponent she fell for the "zombie plague in Cambodia" hoax on the BBC awhile back.

Bringing out the Dead

Bringing out the Dead
Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Saw Land of the Dead Monday night. Entertaining, to say the least, but definetly lacks the same verisimilitude that his previous entries enjoyed. C was right: a decent post-apocalyptic film, which hasn't been made in awhile.

In light of the dead, some distrubing transmissions from Warren Ellis:

US scientists have succeeded in reviving the dogs after three hours of clinical death, paving the way for trials on humans within years.

Pittsburgh’s Safar Centre for Resuscitation Research has developed a technique in which subject’s veins are drained of blood and filled with an ice-cold salt solution.

The animals are considered scientifically dead, as they stop breathing and have no heartbeat or brain activity. But three hours later, their blood is replaced and the zombie dogs are brought back to life with an electric shock.

Plans to test the technique on humans should be realised within a year…

I'm already in the process of collecting ammunition, canned food, armour, and a fortified vehicle. See you on the other side.

Link!

After I finish my article, I will finally start adventuring on World of Warcraft. I got home very late, and very tired on Tuesday night. No way was I going to miss out on some sweet, sweet sleep when I have a six-hour shift the next day. I don't think I will have the energy to write two articles, but I will strum up the courage and absurdity to give it a shot.

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrds!

I am stoked! C, a very sweet and knowledgable human being, gave me his ten-day guest pass for World of Warcraft! Tonight I'm going to start a new account and maybe gain a few levels before I pass out from exhaustion. So looking forward to questing with friends, I am. If anyone wants to find me, I'll be online for the next week and three days on the Frostmore server.

More boats and pirates and. . .

My weekend was eventful, but goddamn I'm tired!

I returned to the Island to celebrate a belated Father's Day. After taking the ferry Friday afternoon and missing my bus (I had to find change and, of course, it was a huge hassle trying to do that at the ferry terminal) I finally got to my folk's place. J made tabouli and hummus for dinner, and mom put some pasta together as well. I ate until my legs were numb. J's dishes were excellent, and I was really impressed with the consistency of the hummus and the citrus tang of the tabouli.

The Tall ships Festival was in Victoria for the weekend, and I figured my dad would dig that scene. We both have an affinity for tall ships. There is a romantic quality to them, with their wide, white sails unfurled as they glide across the ocean. Also, there is strong camaraderie among the sailors, and I appreciate collaborative work rather than individualized, isolated kind. Unfortunately, the boarding tickets were sold out, so we couldn't step onto the vessels. We wandered the grounds looking at crafts, eating mini-donuts and corn-on-the-cob, listened to music from Venezuela and my mom, bless her heart, bought me a photo of one the ships sailing into the harbour; the very same ship featured in Pirates of the Caribbean.

We took the harbour ferry around the docks so we can have a closer look at the ships. We went under the Johnston Street Bridge (the blue horses) we approached the Ellis House dock, where a family was waiting for a ferry. The skipper informed them that another ferry would have to pick them up, since his was full. As he pulled away, the ferry began to violently shake, then in one loud convulsion the ferry suddenly died. We were beginning to float ashore, and the skipper had one of the passing ferries come about and tow us back to the dock. We had to wait for another ferry to pick us up. I figured, a daring sea rescue complimented the day's theme.

After eating at the Blackfish Cafe, my mom chatted with a woman in the bathroom who told her the large ships were free to board. Awesome! We climbed aboard the Mexican ship, and it was incredible: I stood at the bow and pictured myself in the middle of the Pacific, narrowing my eyes against the wind and wiping salt off my lips. We finished the day by watching Master and Commander, cheering on as The Surprise chased after the French. I came home yesterday afternoon, badly sunburned and exhausted, but it was worth it.

Tonight: Land of the Dead and homework.

Sometimes, Hollywood spurs another kind of rebellion

In case I forget: Ian Edginton and D'Israeli are at it again, adapting H.G Wells' War of the Worlds in webcomic format. Far as I know, there will be no print version right away, or at all. It's just lovely to look at. There will be a sequel to Scarlet Traces coming out soon-ish.

The Fall of Captain Hook

This blog has a new URL!

http://thestarshaveeyes.blogspot.com

Today I arrived at school at 8 AM so I could rehearse the play with my group. I wrote (most) of the script, and the others made sets, costumes and even a program. I should mention that this play was for my English class (medieval literature) and we did a modern interpretation of The Creation and the Fall, which was an Anglo-Saxon mystery play performed by the community rather than professional actors. We used the Peter Pan story to depict the rebellion in heaven and the fall of Lucifer. Naturally, I played the devil, represented by Captain Hook.

The performance went better than I thought. Some of the jokes got laughs from the entire audience, rather than the few who laugh to rescue the actor from embarrassment (I should have used the old theater trick where my friends would sit in the back and laugh uproariously, so it becomes contagious and everyone laughs) at the right times, although some didn't work. Most of the time, humour isn't effective if the delivery is shaky. The scene changes were a little stilted, mostly because I screwed up, and I flubbed my lines in the first act. No one really noticed in the audience, though. Musical selection was appointed to me, and I think it worked out well. I used Tom Waits, Nick Cave and some soundtrack stuff. The biggest surprise was finding out that the department head was there, and the fact turned my knees to a gelatinous substance similar to the skin that forms over cooling soup. Peter Pan was great, as were the Lost Boys and pirates. The whole project was really fun and I get another script to add to my portfolio.

Lately, my obsessions are as follows: French cooking (on the weekends), short stories, writing the perfect short story, looking for poetry I haven't read yet, coffee, iced coffee beverages, comics, writing about comics, tabletop games, the fact that Star Wars: Battlegrounds will be available for Mac in July, choosing what English courses to take at UBC, choosing what sociology courses to take at UBC, my play, eating and drinking with friends, reconnecting with friends, widgets, and bothering people about what I obsess over.

I have to work this afternoon, followed by more homework. I kind of took Sunday off to spend time with L's folks and to recover from the night before: I went for drinks with my co-workers. I had a great time, and I forgot how much I like the Met and the all the bars in the neighbourhood. When I took a shower yesterday morning my elbow ached whenever it came into contact with water. I had to twist my arm to get a better look. Lo and behold, there was a chunk missing from my elbow! How the hell did that happen? Was someone nibbling on me? Did I get into a fight? I only had a few drinks and I was perfectly conscious the whole time. It still aches a little; L was kind enough to put a band-aid over the abrasion this morning. Thanks for listening.

Several men sit down at a round table, the eldest coughs and says:

I will keep this brief: I am attempting to cover my ass as I (a) try to get the final draft of my group project sent to the other members and (b) arrange a new time to take my mid-term, which I will be missing on Tuesday on account of J's high school graduation. No, not mine. We need to get over there Monday night so we are all ready for the ceremony. "There" being the lovely Isle of Vancouver.

Life is good. I spend my weekends cooking, eating what I cook, writing and visiting. In case teachers read this - yes, I do the homework too. It pays having a three day weekend.

I find stress has become the high octane fuel churning inside my little engine. The sounds and sights around me fade away and I center all my attention at the task at hand, imagining all the horrible things that would occur if I fail. Luckily, I have a gruesome imagination.

Do not put the exclamation mark beside a question mark, they do not get along.

Apparently, I am no longer popular. See what happens when you even mention your minor, fleeting successes? See!?

!1!

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Let the bikes come out in droves, drowning the streets with sweat and creaky chains.

Let people have the streets and parks and stores.

Summer digs her warm hands into the soil and tosses the dirt and seeds into the yellow air.

Shameless plug + why I shiver when I walk

It's been a slow week here at The Stars Have Eyes laboratories, now that school has gained momentum again. I have another weekend of finishing projects (two this time) plus I really have to call K, who I haven't seen since Easter.

Last night I pretty much drank for five hours, prior to seeing my friend D's band play at the Candy Bar last night. I'm not bragging about the drinking, don't get me wrong, only it's pretty sad when I edge towards a binge and not even see it coming. It was cool to see friends from Victoria, and I bumped into R too. We made plans. I have a bottle of lemon and ginger ale I picked up last night, then after that I'm on detox mode. Activate!

However, I spent my afternoon cooking: the beginnings of a chili is in the slow cooker, and I made fried rice with coconut milk and green curry, and now I'm gonna have me some cheese, apple slices and coffee. Tonight I want to make homemade mayonnaise with cilantro, and enjoy the chili with the lemon and ginger ale. I will have to get someone to fetch me some chocolate and chili peppers for the chili.

The Other Press is behind on this month's issue. Dang. When I checked out the site the other day I noticed that my article was listed in a column off the side labeled "Popular." The one titled "Les Bandes Dessinées Sont Bonne Nourriture." Yeah, that one. Does this mean my article is popular, or what? I will send a team of angry apes to investigate. I think it might be out today (I just checked: no) or next week. Next month I'm writing an essay on live music (With D's show acting as a catalyst/preamble to the article) and manga.

If I were a pirate, would I say "arrrrrrrrticle?" That, dear friends, is stupid.

Strange

This is totally crazy and I have to blog this. I just finished a review for Mike Mignola's Jenny Finn: Doom, which I lavished more praise onto than Steven Grant's critique on Comic Book Resources. I actually liked the art, I thought it added to the overall tone of the story. Mind you, I didn't exactly absorb the entire comic yet. Anyway, I mentioned to I, the arts editor, that the comic had a Herman Melville feel to it, but I didn't include it in the finished article. I don't know why, probably beause I had some nagging doubt about the vaildity of my claim. I just checked out Steven Grant's final assessment:

Not quite so successful is JENNY FINN: DOOM, an attempt at Lovecraftian horror (though it somehow comes off more as Herman Melville) by Mike Mignola.

My eyes widened when I read that sentence.

Send the message to headquarters, we are sending representatives to Iceland

Iceland has incredible landscapes; the rolling hills and steaming pools are like those found in a dream, the earth covered in soft textures and alien colours. I would love to spend a week or two there, writing and doing a general investigation. Too bad it's super expensive to mount an expedition in that country.

In the immortal words. . .

Holy crap! Alan Moore (possibly) reading excerpts from William S. Burroughs' works! Why, why does this have to take place in Britain? Why?

Like most people on the internets, George Lucas has seeped into my digital monologue.

Rainy day. I'm stuck inside doing homework, since I'm a week behind on my readings, but my assignments are all doing swell. I have to finish this philosophy text, then move onto English.

You can tell nothing is going on when I write about school.

Well, I did wait in line for two hours with C and A to see Star Wars. Still, without a doubt, a terrible movie. I will agree with my fellow nerds with this movie's tone being much closer than the first three. However, where the hell is the plot? If it's there, then I find it really hard to nail down. I also agree with L, Lucas only had vague ideas for his prequels, and everything, both visually and dramatically, hinged on the third installment. He needed two movies, or two acts, to get to the third. That's like having a cool idea for a final fight scene but not really knowing how to direct the characters in that direction. A New Hope had a story, The Empire Strikes Back was drifting away from plot conventions and Return of the Jedi was like a Jackson Pollack painting, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Revenge of the Sith is a fun movie to watch. Lots of lightsabre (saber?) battles, military campaigns in strange, alien landscapes and of course, Yoda kicks Sith ass in this film. A good popcorn movie, but it's such a merchandise generator; the public will be bombarded with Stars Wars junk until Christmas.

I got this result over a decade ago.

Your #1 Match: INFP

The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world. Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships. It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close. But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

What's Your Personality Type?

Tips for Summer Fun!

And hello to y'all.

My weekend was very eventful, but I'm not feeling so hot. I hope I can get to work tomorrow afternoon, but it's looking like I'm staying home until Tuesday. I suppose that's fine, since I got a little extra cash from my tax return, but it burns me up to miss out on the sweet, sweet raise we got after the strike. I really should look after myself better, especially since I tend to melt into a pinkish, sweaty blob whenever our little blue planet enters a closer orbit to the sun for a few months. Yeah, I'm not a summer person. As I get a little older, I experiment with different techniques to counter the summer heat.

1. Stay inside. Oh, so, it's really sunny and clear and beautiful outside? Enjoy your sunburn. As I see it, twenty to thirty years from now the ozone layer will be as thin as Kate Moss, and we will have to live indoors or be incinerated in thirty seconds. I'm just preparing for the future.

2. Since I've already established my whereabouts during the summer, I will follow my mom's advice: close the blinds and open the windows.

3. Iced coffee beverages. I know, coffee is bad for you, but so is excessive exposure to UV rays. I am choosing the lesser of two evils.

4. Either go out really early in the morning or after the sun goes down. Or those brief, blissful moments just before the sun goes down and the great outdoors begins to simmer down a little.

5. If you do have to go out, other locations must have three basic amenities: air conditioning, air conditioning, and air conditioning. And iced coffee beverages. Okay, that's four.

Now begone!

I am now an adult. My student loan and tax return has been dumped into my bank account, and this afternoon, after totally missing my meeting with L, I bought a blazer and white shirt for special occasions. Also, I've taken a liking to wearing jackets of this calibre. Buying the items, in a mall no less, has reminded me once again that I have turned into an adult. This is not a terrifying notion. The slow physical decline doesn't seize me with paralyzing anxiety, more like my self is winding down like the last, slow bars of a tune spilling out of wind-up music box.

I have some work to do tonight, but I really need to catch up with friends, especially the ones I haven't talked to in ages.

Let my internal dialectic session bloom

Lately I've been a little burned out on passwords. My life and work requires computers, and I need to access the contents of said computer. I have to check email, chat or log on to the computers at school; all of which require a password. Modern worklife, especially in offices, is really a memorization game. Most people have to juggle several passwords (for instance, I have passwords for Friendster, Flickr, Hotmail, Livejournal and school) in order to create, manage and transmit information to other parties. I don't know where I'm going with this, but historically, this is definitely a new trend in labour. Also, the personal management of security embodies Habermas' risk society, or the formation of stringent security protocols to protect citizens from a perceived danger, one often associated with modern life. This can include accidents, crime or (gasp!) terrorism.* Part of this new "security culture" is monitoring (video cameras in public spaces, like in the U.K.) but also an internalization of protocol, like memorizing passwords or procedures to keep one "safe."

* Terrorism is very real and very serious, so my snide comment is not a show of disrespect to the victims of terrorist acts in the United States and abroad. However, it is difficult to deny that the threat of terrorism is employed by media and government to sustain tension in North American society.

Greatest bookstore, ever.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Lunch, bagette hidden.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Looking for falafel and booze

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Mary, I believe, in a Jesuit church.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Sewer tunnel

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Sewer tunnel, where we saw the mysterious light!

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Outside our first hotel room

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

A courtyard

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Uhhh, yeah.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Gardens

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Typical Parsian street

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Where we stayed

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Notes from Paris, Final

Our last day in Paris was like standing in the center of a rushing whirlwind, as the debris from the streets were picked up and spun around in large circles. Although we were in Paris to check stuff out, we were also there to collect data for L's thesis. She is a graduate student in sociology, and her paper is about urban exploration, or the subculture that arose from individuals exploring urban spaces deemed "forbidden." In Paris, there is a group known as "cataphiles," or people who explore the network of catacombs throughout Paris. Unfortunately, the catacombs are closed until June, so on our last day, after waking up as earlier as possible, we went our separate ways. L went to the catacomb's administration to ask questions, and I went off to finish the bookworm tour. After seeing Ezra Pound's and Gertrude Stein's flats, plus Hemingway's first flat in Paris, I checked out some of the restaurants the Lost Generation frequented, including the former Dingo Bar, where Hemingway and Fitzgerald met for the first time.

We met up later in the morning (the administration office was closed too, poor L) we nibbled on some tartelittes and took the metro to Notre Dame, which we climbed earlier, to check out the archaeological crypt just below the cathedral. The remains are displayed in situ, or left in their original position when they were found by archaeologists. The crypt had Roman and some very early medieval remains of streets, buildings and even a early home heating system! A furnace pumped hot air through ceramic pipes laid throughout the house, thus heating all the rooms during the winter. Very clever. I suggest to those interested in history and archaeology to visit this museum. We mysteriously got in for free. L met this interesting guy, who studied the Paris Commune for many years and had finished a DVD on the lives of one the Commune's heroes: Michelle Louis, or something like that.

After the ruins we took another train to a "sewer tour", a section of the sewer cordoned off for tourists. L knew that urban explorers also went into sewer tunnels, so she wanted to see how this part of the city is presented to tourists and locals alike, and how that presentation differs from the sewers as a "playground." This was my first time in a sewer. Sewers, as I imagined, smell terrible. Worse than a litter box in August. The Parisian sewer did not fall short of my expectations. Regardless, there is a strange beauty to the rusting pipes and darkened tunnels. The colours are very earthy, like multiple shades of brown (stop giggling) and green that meld together like a abstract painting. Coupled with the mysterious elements (as L and were taking a picture of a tunnel, we noticed a small pinpoint of light coming towards us, then suddenly was snuffed out. I was very creeped out) I can understand why people become enchanted by this kind of space.

I should also mention that L picked up some books in Paris related to her topic. And for a fraction of the price!

We did do some shopping. For mustard. But before that, we hunted in second-hand stores that sold cast-off designer clothes. We were not successful for two reasons. One, L found nothing she really liked. And two, even though the items were second-hand, they were still designer clothes. Sure, the clothes were, at times, 70% off their original price, but if the original price was 2,000 Euros, then, well, it can be beyond a student's budget. Just as we were going out to get mustard, fancy mustard no less, we had to dodge a torrential downpour that suddenly appeared. We ran from awning to awning, and took brief refuge in a men's clothing store. The owner invited everyone in, although when he saw me he detained me and jokingly said, "expect for you, sir!" I laughed and he patted me on my back as I walked into his shop. I love the French.

Our last stop was Museé D'orsay, and we finally got to see some of the most important Impressionist paintings from Renoir, Cezanne, Monet and Van Gogh. Stepping into the galleries was like visiting a sacred church that people make a pilgrimage to, and when I arrived I was in awe of seeing the complex brushstrokes that made their work come alive. I can't believe I crossed an ocean to just to look at some paintings up close and examine the movement and blending of paint on a canvas that is older than me, or anyone I know.

To wrap up, we caught our flight the next morning. I. Hate. Flying. The take-offs and the landings are the worst. My stomach shoots into my skull or plummets to my ass whenever the plane soars up or down.

Now I'm back, and that means I have to run some errands and go to work. Luckily, I like work at the moment. Enjoy the pictures.

Add up events to build a day-pyramid

Tomorrow morning, as a promise to myself, I will write a good and proper update.

Got royally hammered with R last night, then made it for Free Comic Book Day with C. That same afternoon saw me in Chilliwack for L's mom's birthday, now I'm home to prepare for the week. I get to keep all my classes, and. . .well. . .I have good news, but that can wait until the next update.

Haiku/Sketch

Café de Flore, sidewalk under maple tree
waiter points at my foot resting on stool
says, "monsieur, s'il vous plait."

Computer problems solved, posts edited.

Notes from Paris 3

Passed by the yard behind the train station, the train cars were like long, silver snakes, glistening in the sun, lolling in the gravel under a discarded heap of metal and glass in a garden.

Sacré Coeur

The church is entirely composed of arches, linked together like sweeping brushstrokes. It is a strange mix of faith and commerce; tourists stroll around the church's interior while the pious sit in the pews or at the alters, whispering private prayers. Their presence can startling. One almost stumbles upon them as one casually examines the statues and mosaics, reminding the tourist that this is indeed a living church, rather than a museum.

We wandered into the Museé Picasso, and it was free! I gawked at Picasso's work, from his early material to his cubist period, than into his later years. Also saw pieces from Cezanne and Bacon. What's left: Museé D'orsay, shopping, and the remainder of the bookworm tour. And the Parisian depths! We will be exploring crypts and sewers too.

Notes from Paris 2

I'm still a little tipsy as I write this, the level of difficulty is compounded by this alien keyboard, so I will do my best.

We never ended up at the Picasso Museum, that's for another day. No, we ended up at the Louvre. I gotta say, never before have I seen such a magnificent homage to Western civilization. All the classics, acknowledged as inspirations for modern society on this side of the globe, were there in all their preserved glory: Egyptian, Greek, and European. All the pieces were displayed in massive, nausea-inducing halls, adorned with rich murals and relieves. I was dizzy most of the time. I spent a good ten minutes staring at the Mona Lisa. That bitch has a lot to answer for.

Yesterday, we ran a marathon. After meeting T for coffee at the train station (imagine those pictures of grandiose steel and glass structures for Victorian photos) before she departed for London, we returned to our room to rest up for our "bookworm" tour. This comprised of seeing Hemingway's old digs, a hotel and bar Ginsberg and Kerouac frequented, Shakespeare and Company book shop (both the new location and the original, whose founder edited, retyped and published Ulysses), James Joyce's pad, Picasso's studio, and a whole bunch of cool book shop. I found my favourite, called "The Modern Look" in English. Inside the cramped, tiny store were hundreds of books on trashy films, comics, deviant literature and of course, the Beats.

Then, after nibbling on crèpes (with tomatoe, lettuce and salty feta) and gelato (frankly, the best gelato in the known universe) we did the most tourist-y thing imaginable: we ascended the Eiffel Tower. Nice view. I'm not so good with heights, especially on human-made structures, but you know what? I did alright. Paris is one of the largest cities I've been to, the urban landscape just stretches out until it fades in the horizon. Even as we walk the cobbled streets, the roads, bordered by lines of sagging, old buildings, continues like a maze one is hopelessly lost in.

I hate ending sentences with a preposition.

We also boarded a boat that sped along the Seine, with some narration on landmarks and history. We quickly checked out Pigelle and swung by Moulin Rouge, which is like a watered down Bourbon Street. We made the last train home.

Now, I'm having trouble logging onto to my actual blog, is anyone else? Just email me.

More Later

Since I have nine minutes left on the computer, a quick update will follow.

After waking up a little late and having a shower in a bathroom that resembled one found in Beirut circa 1992, we had delicious tartelittes then café noir at the bar (which is cheaper than sitting down) and now we're off to the Picasso museum and the bookworm walking tour, which exhibits some of the literary landmarks in Paris. Our new hôtel is located in Marais, just across the street from the hôtel de ville and overlooking a bustling, downtown street.

and. . .

I should briefly mention how amazing the food is in Paris. Yesterday I had risotto forestier, very creamy with nuggets of earthy, buttery wild mushrooms inside the dish. We had a baguette with crusty goat cheese and a lively white wine in our hotel room, then I passed out.

Oh, in my comment to Bo, it is properly spelled petit déjeuner.

Notes from Paris

It is cloudy today in Paris. Little flecks of rain hit my face, but I completely ignore it. I have been taking notes, and I want to draw some sketches and scribble more notes. I've been trying to finish a poem. Some of what I have so far:

The train into Paris followed a track that cuts along an overgrown, littered passage that looks neglected. We cut across highways, mysterious, large buildings with colourful smokestacks, then we pass into darkened tunnels to the underground, into the metro stops made up from oddly matched tiles: yellows, pinks, and grays.

The problem of writing about Paris, or using Paris as a backdrop to a story, is the mechanical problem of capturing the enormity of the city and the multitudes that intersect with one another. The city is a massive lattice, like the metro, but with more stations and tracks and far too many intersections. Paris is not a horizontal city, like most Canadian cities that spread over a stretch of land. Paris is vertical, or, the lattice is built upward, making it dense and concentrated. Paris thrives on the layers left behind by history.

Salut, mes amis.

After a fifteen hour flight we made it to Paris. We are very, very tired. We already checked in before noon, and we spent the day wandering around, taking pictures and hanging out at a café. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to upload photos from this computer. Hell, I have trouble using this bloody keyboard with its fancy French configurations. The rest of the evening will consist of eating in our room and catching up on much needed sleep. Some observations so for:

1. The French are not really that rude.
2. Paris is huge, and old.
3. The Metro is confusing. Somehow, we landed in the middle of a massive mall and got lost. I was half expecting a minotaur lying in wait for us. The building was made up of sweeping, concrete arches and coloured glass.
4. Cafés in France kick royal ass. Canada has much to learn. One can sit at a bar and sip brandy and read the daily. I worked on a poem.
5. You cqn go into a supermarket and buy bandaids, cheese and wine.
6. The city hall here is made up of at least six Vancouver city halls. Seriously.

The streets are crowded and congested. Sirens wail every twenty minutes, often from little police cars shuttling plain clothes police officers. Soldiers with archaic machine guns patrol the airport. Dogs hang out in bars. On the train from the airport a man sat down and belted out a few tunes from his accordian. I spoke a little French. More to come after I sleep.

More painting rags for me

Tomorrow morning L and I will be on a plane to France. I'm finishing up the laundry and brushing up on my French (particularly ordering food) and I will be eventually heading out to hang with Mr. E. My week was a little stressful: I was deregistered from my courses because I missed the payment deadline. I had to rush to get my classes back and pay for them on Thursday, all within a ten minute window! Registration opened again at 4 PM, but the registrar's office (where I pay for all of this) also closes at 4 PM. How bloody convenient. I will miss the first day of classes anyway, due to being in France and all. I had to contact my profs to get permission to be absent, or else I lose my seat again. This chore is done. Sort of. At least my interior life isn't boring.

When I'm in France I will update as I go and upload photos from Flickr.

========

Last night I burned my thumb while I was draining pasta in the kitchen sink. Ouch. Nonetheless, nothing is better than pasta with cheese (two kinds even), olive oil and black pepper at midnight.

Last week was ca-ra-zee. I am a free man as of last Friday. My two exams are finished (they both went swimmingly) and my English paper is finished. On Saturday I had to get up a 5 AM to catch my ride to Bothell, Washington for the Pacific Northwest Writing Center Association conference. My co-workers and I were the only Canadians present. The seminars were interesting: the one on generating ideas using play was insightful, and the other on acknowledging accents in writing as well as speech got my attention. I also attended two seminars on critical thinking, and writing an exploratory paper (one with no thesis) to examine all perspectives of an issue or idea. The food was decent. There was, you guessed it, lasagna for the veggies in the crowd. I was up for a little over 17 hours. I was tired all through Sunday too.

L and are going to Paris on Sunday. I'm still a little ambivilant about the trip, as the whole "I don't speak French very well and nothing will go smoothly" scenario plays in my head. I understand that not every travel experience will be perfect, but it is intimidating to enter a country where you are the alien. Although, lately, I've found it hard to be excited about anything.

Ah, I played the Lord of the Rings board game with C last night. The presentation is incredible, and there were moments when the game got very exciting. I tend to yell and cheer when I play games, much to C's dismay.

I was never a Nine Inch Nails fan, but that Trent Reznor has garnered some respect from yours truly. He released a song online through Garageband, and users can dowload it and tinker with the song. You can get it here.

Things to do this week:

1. Get my school fees taken care of.
2. Send in student loan form.
3. Do my taxes.
4. Contact my profs, since I won't make the first day of classes.
5. Get play ready for feedback.
6. Finish article.

Yeeeeeeeeee-haw!

I am finishing up the last of my schoolwork: studying for my exam tomorrow at eight in the morning(!) and my English final. L and I decided to fly to Paris on the 24th for a ten-day jaunt. We bought the tickets this afternoon (as I watched the Travel Cuts agent crop our photos to fit the International Studnet cards. They way her hands moved as she circumscribed each photographs' edge was odd, the slim, firm paper seemed to rotate on its own as the white background around our heads and our shoulders were peeled off like an apple skin. Her desk was littered with little rectangles. The whole scene had me thinking) and we also picked up the Lonely Planet guide. I know, it's so touristy! But, it's not like we know anything about the city and where to stay and eat. Lonely Planet is good for that; it includes the really cheap places, unlike Frommers where, like, the super-expensive places are given a one dollar sign (like so: $) to denote "affordable." Bite me.

My last day of work is on Friday, not Thursday like I was led to believe. Yes, I know, I led myself. No need to get so bitchy.

What I want:

1. iPod Shuffle
2. Digital camera (the H family camera is here again, so L and I playing with it and may bring the bad boy to Paris with us)
3. Complete works of H.P. Lovecraft, for a future project
4. Books detailing the history of Palestine and Israel
5. More money for comics

And, I'm heading down to Seattle again to attend a conference for writing tutors. Myself, plus four other co-workers, are being driven to the University of Washington to attend the seminars and, you guessed it, eat tons of free food! And spend American dollars! Duty-free! I'm putting on a ten-gallon hat and shooting red wine out of turkey basters!

If I were a storTrooper

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

My hair colour isn't quite that brown, but the site has a sad selection for hairstyles. The good people (person?) who have brought back the beloved storTroopers have neglected to represent the diverse hairstyles within contemporary society. The storTrooper site is filled with prejudice, and hate.

Okay, maybe not.

the titles come when they can

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Our neigbourhood is beginning to warm up. The trees' pinkish blossoms are pulling themselves out their buds when no one is looking. Our wet streets look as though they've been splashed with golden paint at dusk, then soften to cool, dark tones as the sun shrinks. At dusk and dawn, the colours and textures of the world become complex. Shadow and light dance together, and everything just looks richer, or they have more substance then they normally would, like a face in candlelight. Now, I got some of the house cleaned up. Yay.

The six hours will be spent on review for the exam tonight, and my semester officially finishes on Thursday. My prediction was pretty accurate: this semester ended with a whimper as opposed to a bang. I need to finish the article (the bastard is one hundred words over the limit) and the English paper by Thursday, so the blog entries will be rather sparse until then. I will start fencing again next Tuesday, and I'm giving my play over to a dramaturgist for feedback inbetween the semesters. I'm also going to hunt out more possiblities to write about comics and to submit poetry.

Yeah, L took the above picture.

Okay!

I'm currently in Chilliwack! We arrived yesterday to celebrate L's dad's birthday, which is today, but I spent all of yesterday in the farmhouse working on my English paper and getting my next article ready. The Other Press slows down during the summer and only releases a few issues over the three months. Really monsterous issues, of course. So, I'm going to write a couple of articles rather than just the one. I did get a lot of work done, and L and I met Nicky and scratched her belly. We also visited the cows (L fed them oat grass and petted their huge, wet noses) and wandered around the farm. Dinner last night was great: lasagna (again, this dish makes an appearance) and garlic bread, and M and I finished off the pig keg on the kitchen counter. Rude jokes ensued.

I'm coming home tonight to work and tidy up the house.

Let Spring Burn a Hole

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

I will be crawling into bed, although I had enough coffee in the last 12 hours to stun an elephant. I'm very excited. I wonder what work will be like for the last week, will anyone come in to ask for help? I'm happy either way. Some folks I helped out this semester have moved on, and I'm really happy about that. It's always nice to meet for the last time though, and get a sense of the individual's progress and witness the improvements they made over the few months coming into the Centre. I'm also glad it's April; more photos can be uploaded and plugged into the blog.

Even other people's projects are exciting: magazines, websites, books, comics, motorcycles, houses, relationships - the list is endless.

I do want school to finish so I can relax and get some writing done. I finished the fencing classes this week, so we're moving onto the "intermediate" levels. Meaning, more bouts and one-on-one coaching. The community centre around the corner offers Shaolin kung-fu (or wu-shu) for $25 a month, or something like that. It's dirt cheap, anyway. There's another style offered too. L and I are going to check it out, while I take aikido on Saturdays. The plan is to take the class in the morning, then help out L at the Farmer's Market.

Just for clarity, L's folks work on a collectively owned organic farm, and they sell their produce in the summer. L works there whenever she gets a chance. I've been out there a few times, I'll take some photos and share them. Next door to their farm lives the sweetest dog in the world, named Nicky. She is very affectionate and loves living in the country, and everytime she sees L Nicky runs across the field, which is pretty remarkable beacuse (a) she is not a young dog anymore and (b) she was hit by a car recently. Nicky is awesome. The farm is very peaceful and I always enjoying spending time there.

Good morning.

The Clean-Up

L constantly reminds me how much she detests how all my user names begin with a "j" then a "_" followed by some silly moniker like "bot" or "x-ray." I think it softens her heart to know someone so utterly out of touch with digital culture.

So, some news. I'm writing semi-regularly about comics for the student paper. I wrote my first article, an enormous 300 word beast, on Paul Chadwick's merits and the gimmick-laden marketing schemes in the industry. I don't mind if writers dream up a strange, labyrinthine story to draw in new readers, it just needs to be a decent one. Sometimes it seems publishers forget that comics are a story-telling medium. I also want to cover some resturants (those within a student's budget) for the paper. Maybe some book reviews too. Ah, books.

Today I hung with C: picking up comics, playing games at Drexoll, then eating pasta and watching Clone Wars at C and Ca's house. Thank you for making the pasta Ca, because the pasta was awesome. Tomorrow will see me working on my English final and gearing up for my article, as well as putting together my presentation for work on Friday.

The Pope passed away yesterday. I'm still processing the event.

Also, Robert Creeley died on April 1st. I think he would have wanted it that way. I just started to familiarize myself with his work.

Today, at 7:30 AM, I registered for three courses. English literature from the 14th to the 18th century, philosophy (reality and existence) and introduction to fiction writing. I'm still waiting for a reply from scholarship foundations and UBC. That means I'm still a nervous mess.

I'm enjoying Pirates of the Spanish Main, Warren Ellis's feeds (who does feed that man anyway?) or just generally cruising the net for news. I'm looking for a site for English nerds who want to discuss literature and writing, mostly poetry. I know there must be message boards for enterprising writers. I want to check out Poetry Critical, or other related sites.

It is late but the city is early.

I just got a short paper back, and I didn't do as well as I thought. Them's the breaks.

There's still some work-related stuff that needs to get done, and the deadline for my prospectus is looming overhead.

Got to go.

The weekend went well. I want to post the pictures soon, or when Flickr gives me more space to upload photos. R and G came over, and we hooked up with Ry, K and T for Indian food at this buffet place. The quality was, well, adequate. And, just at the moment when the restaurant became quiet, I blurted out "herpes" really loud when I was trying to remember what STD could be transmitted in a hot tub. My first guess: syphilis. Then R and G stayed with us for the night, and we ended up playing Kill Dr. Lucky and drinking booze. The whole night was really fun, and it kind of felt like a family reunion with everyone sitting down and catching up.

Then, after a breakfast of L's spectacular blueberry muffins, they took off for a show downtown. L and I picked up wine, vegetables, pate, cheese and crackers for L's folks. Her mom and dad came in around five and we made cabbage rolls, borsht, garlic-kale mashed potatoes and L's mom made an apple crisp for dessert. Je came over to join us for dinner, and a good time was had. We chatted about Canadian literature, and I found I could actually present a reasonable contribution.

Sunday saw us taking the ferry over to my folk's place. We had a really great time, hanging out and eating chocolate. My mom made this incredible three-cheese and spinach lagasna, which I totally inhaled. We talked about our future plans (studying in Slovenia, pursuing a doctorate at Yale) and making sure my dad is feeling well. I'm beginning to wind down here, so to top off this anectode some good news. As L and I waited to to depart the ferry, a woman announced she had room for two in her car. We saw an opportunity begin to dance, then we reached out and grasped its hand in our sore, reddened digits. We danced all the way home.

Good night.

*''''''''''''''''''''''''*

Grumble. I pulled an all-nighter to finish the paper, and miraculously, I'm still going strong. Not like tractor strong, more like determined cyclist strong. I work until four, have class for three hours (and hand in this bad boy of a paper)then it's home for me. Chocolate and booze awaits.

I'm a little embarrassed though: I started to drift off while the instructor was talking. And, um, I kind of drifted off a bit during the discussion group. Man oh man.

Okay, listen up: procrastination is like a credit card. Sure, you can charge all you want, buying some time to download music and eat corn chips, but when the bill comes in the mail you will pay, mister. You will pay.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

essay my way

Trapped at school, writing this stupid essay. I thought this would be the last one, but I just remembered I have an English essay to finish, but it's not due for two weeks, so who cares? I don't! The sociology (stupid) essay is coming along nicely, although I keep floating away from it whenever my eyes start to glaze over. I people-watch in the library (I'm actually doing this at work, which has windows that look directly into the library computer labs) and cruise the internets. I'm listening to old punk rock and checking out comic book related stuff. That doesn't sound like work to me, young man.

It looks like we're heading for the Island for Easter Sunday dinner, and to deliver concert tickets we got for my parents. The Easter weekend will be a W-H family tour, playing both hosts and guests. Why does getting older become harder at times, then slowly grows so banal I can navigate my life with no effort? Like how everyone shakes hands and says hello with a smile without thinking, they simply act the part. Every holiday should be celebrated differently every year, whether you're an atheist or not, just to keep everyone from drifting off to sleep. On my 30th birthday I'll probably sleep in.

That's it. Finished. I just have the conclusion to write.

Creationists in the U.S. demanded that high school biology textbooks have warning labels on them. So, someone out there came up with warning stickers for Bibles.

"This book contains material on Judeo-Christian theology. Judeo-Christian theology offers insight into the origin and meaning of life and is the basis for several of the world's great religions. But it does not encompass the full range of religious beliefs held sacred by members of our diverse American society. Moreover, this material is based on ancient texts, and significant errors may have been introduced through subsequent translations and omissions. This material should be approached with an open mind, studied carefully and critically considered."

How does ethnographic and enthnohistoric data contribute to preserving First Nation traditions?

Just finished one assignment, two to go. I also have weekly English assignments but I can just bang those out at my convenience. Gentlemen, tighten your saddles.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

I found this, ah, matchbook last weekend outside the art show, propped up on a cement planter. I guess it's a matchbbook.

Still working here. Got some stuff done yesterday, then went out with C to see Steamboy. It's really pretty to look out, but by God it never ends! I understand Akira is great and all, but somehow I think the story could have been told under the one hour and forty-five minute mark. And a little dog gets repeatedly beaten. Not cool. Luckily, I ordered a mango bubble tea and bought The Man Without Fear by Frank Miller to appease my burning anger. I like how Miller revamped Daredevil's backstory into one with a backbone that's much more relevent to the character's motivations. I find Miller's writing to be a tad overwrought at times; he often relies on repetition and flimsy metaphors to create mood, and then he kind of beats the reader over the head with it. It's like Miller doesn't trust his audience to absorb the tone: "This comic is gritty, it's so real! I need to remind you every other page!"

So, yeah, getting stuff done. I have to finish these two short essays today then I'm ready to tackle the ten-page monster due this Thursday. Now that I think about it, all my assignments are due on Thursday. Weird.

This is the last week of assignments. I will eat chocolate rabbits and drink cheap wine next weekend.

(.) <--------------------> (*)

Who's that whistlin' outside my window? Who's that walking on their toes across my wooden floor? What are those creaks and snaps at the foot of our bed? Who just whispered my name?

I've reevaluated my critique of Copenhagen. Like the whole "good" part at the beginning there. The rest is fine, but I should tip my wrinkled hat to R and change "good" to "underdirected."

I'm getting more sleep.

L and I met at school to see Sympathetic Magic, but the bloody thing was sold out. I got us reservations for tomorrow night, but that means my review won't get done until Friday. I'm taking it easy this St. Patty's Day (who, by the way, ran over his sister two or three times with a chariot. And he burned quite a lot of people. All the more reason to drink green-tinted beer in a crowded bar with neckless college goons breathing through their mouths) drinking at home and watching movie trailers.

Lots of "ing" suffixes today. Easy there, cowboy. Don't you be gaining any momentum on us.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Oh, hey.

I just talked to L's dad and our conversation reminded me to update. Thanks M!

My house is cold at the moment. It rained all morning and the house soaked up all the moisture. I need to put on a sweater and drink tea.

I'm slowly getting back to work. The operative word being slowly.

Picked up Concrete: The Human Dilemma #3, Grant Morrison's Seven Soldiers of Victory (could be good), Doc Frankenstein #2 and Street Angel #5. All quality comics. I really want to make comic books. If not for a living, then at least a side project or two.

Lately I've been really tired. for like two weeks it's been like this. Sometimes I don't get enough sleep, and I pay the price the following day. At fencing last night, my reflexes didn't want to cooperate, so everyone just dove in and pressed bruises onto my torso. I just gotta get more sleep. I just gotta.

The End

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

The experiement was a success! Ha! Okay, sort of.

I did sleep in and sit around and drink coffee. The house is sort of clean. Well, it's cleaner. The late lunch was wicked; pasta mixed with a roasted red pepper spread, and then boccochini, mushrooms and olive oil tossed with it. And wine. I finally scored two bottles of Cono Sur and all those big, juicy flavours got to roll around in my mouth. Oh, sorry, that sounded a little gross. We did meet Ch and Ca for the art show, which was fun, and I did buy comics. L and I got invited to their house, situated in our old neighbourhood, and we played Pirates of the Spanish Main and drank tea. They have the coolest work space. Oh, and we did end up taking photos, just not around the neighbourhood. We just finished watching Sideways, drank more wine with crackers and humous. Hummous? Again, the proper spelling eludes me. We didn't get around to seeing the play. Maybe next time.

And no work done for paper. Pha-pha-pha-phooey.

On the itinerary for today:

1. Sleep in (done), sit around and drink coffee.
2. Tidy up the house a wee bit.
3. Have late lunch.
4. Wander around the neighbourhood and take pictures.
5. Meet up with Ch and Ca for art show.
6. Go to the play at the Firehall, Tales of an Urban Indian.
7. Relax the rest of the day, possibly buy comics.
8. Scribble some notes for sociology paper.

As an experiment, I will see how many of things I will accomplish by tonight. Too bad science isn't as fun.

Symmetry

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Pretty stoked for the new Hellboy comic to come out. I mean, I like B.P.R.D. and all, but I need some real monster action soon or else!

I'm going to ask to take the digital camera to school/work and take some shots of the campus and work.

No good fiction yet. Haven't found it. Then again, I haven't looked too hard either.

Cats, with apologies to Tom

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

salvador3 Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

This is my cat, Salvador. He can be such a clown at times, twisting himself around for the camera and revealing a hint of his fangs to complete the composition. We were given a digital camera on loan, and now I want to bike around and take pictures all weekend. There is an art show this weekend at Shine, and the dynamic duo Ch and Ca (I don't know if she spells her name with a K) will be attending. When an opportunity to capture human souls via digital technology arises, I'll be there wearing a huge, hideous grin.
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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

At home, writing. I'm really tired (I generally dislike hearing how tired people feel. If you're sleepy, go home. But, please make an exception for me this one time) and fuzzy headed, so I should take a nap before I go out fencing. Busy day. I don't have to time to call anyone or look at headlines. What the hell is going on in the world? Maybe Sal knows.

I want to learn how to get rid of the Decepticons Attack! tag.

Feh

Lately, the muscle behind my left shoulder has been sore. The ache is beginning to really bother me. This is it. As I shoot towards the age of thirty, I can feel all the past injuries, hidden under years of drinking and exercise, begin to crawl out from under the sinews of pink and white flesh and tug on my unsuspecting pain receptors. I can't jump off cars anymore. I can't drink coffee, Red Bull, tequila and stay awake for forty-two hours and expect to walk into work with my shorts worn over my pants and dried leaves mashed onto my back. I can't do it. Not anymore.

There is hope, my friends. I spent the weekend writing, drinking at an after-hours club (we arrived way before the after-hour mark, just to check it out) and stayed up until three to finish editing the play. Which is done. Thank God. I'm really proud of it and the changes I made really tightened up the conflict, which seemed flacid sitting there in the center doing very little. I added some dramatic "anchors" that reeled in the comedy relief when I needed him back onstage, and all the characters were given some depth. After the wrokshop, there were a couple people who replied back, saying not to change anything. This is a future apology to those people: everything changes. Sorry.

Copenhagen was good. R was misinformed, which was totally not his fault, and we showed up two hours before the box office opened. Only magazine needs to get itself straightened out. We wandered, ate breakfast (cheese, basil and olive oil crepe for me, plus large americano) and we wandered some more, chatting about architecture and books. We drank more coffee and eventually got back to see the play. Oh, I also picked up some material for my essay. Copenhagen is complex, sure, but at times the dialogue was bogged down in some trivialities that attempted to bridge the physics together. I understand that the science was important, but the forward motion was thin at times. There were small bits of comedy nestled in the script that lightened the mood, and they were effective. The connection between history, philosophy, sociology and science was threaded together rather tightly in the subtext. I would like a copy of the script. Anyone know a cheap spot to buy scripts?

So, yeah. Working on the anthropology paper. I need a couple of more books on the history of the Native American Church. What I have is so convoluted in narrative, I'm having a hard time picking out the facts.

Anyone what to produce a play?

Might as Well Start the Weekend Right

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

For the next three weeks I will immersed in my schoolwork. The first week will be the worst, and the following weeks will slowly deflate like a balloon. So, I want to share a couple of things I'm really excited about.

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Originally uploaded by Decepticons Attack!.

Um, Philip K. Dick. What can I say? The man is gen-u-ine. I think it's intersting, not to mention topical, to make A Scanner Darkly film. Video cameras are installed on street corners now; their dull electric eyes recording, recording and recording. The film is animated, no less.

I will be meeting R at 7:30 A.M. to get tickets for the Copenhagen play. Hoo boy. After the play I will be starting my anthropology paper on peyote religions in North America and a sociology paper on urban transportation. Plus I have to edit my play.

L, A and I checked out the perogy dinner at the Ukrainian Orthodox Church's auditorium. For ten bucks you get a decent meal and it has a really friendly atmosphere. There is a huge, cool bookshelf crammed with, um, books tucked away in the corner. I wanted to cruise by and peruse the titles, but I would have had to climb over diners and chairs. What I wouldn't do for literature.