16.3.06
15.3.06
Day Three
Just to give you a heads up, the following entry will lack any real colour or drama.
I wrote about 500 words last night for the Blake essay and a brief outline for the Poe essay. When I get home I plan on writing another 500, or possibly more, and finish up Mr. Blake by Friday or Saturday. That gives me two or three days to write another 1200 words for Poe, and the last three days to write for my crime and society class.
I wrote about 500 words last night for the Blake essay and a brief outline for the Poe essay. When I get home I plan on writing another 500, or possibly more, and finish up Mr. Blake by Friday or Saturday. That gives me two or three days to write another 1200 words for Poe, and the last three days to write for my crime and society class.
13.3.06
Day One
As of today, I'm in work mode. I have to see the prof for my American lit class, go to an orientation for my exchange program, and then collect research material and class readings at the library. Then I write, write like I've never written before.
A couple of semesters ago, while I was at Douglas, I enrolled for five classes. Near the end of the term I had papers due for all those classes at around the same time. I panicked, so I procrastinated, which ignited more panic, and so forth. I was a wreck for two weeks. I'm worried I'm going to pull the same stunt this semester. I decided that whenever I'm awake, I will be writing. No doubt this blog will suffer as a consequence.
Did I mention that I'm interviewing the director for a student production of Mamet's Sexual Perversity in Chicago? I'm slowly returning to freelancing, although I'm not getting paid. More clips for the file, I suppose.
A couple of semesters ago, while I was at Douglas, I enrolled for five classes. Near the end of the term I had papers due for all those classes at around the same time. I panicked, so I procrastinated, which ignited more panic, and so forth. I was a wreck for two weeks. I'm worried I'm going to pull the same stunt this semester. I decided that whenever I'm awake, I will be writing. No doubt this blog will suffer as a consequence.
Did I mention that I'm interviewing the director for a student production of Mamet's Sexual Perversity in Chicago? I'm slowly returning to freelancing, although I'm not getting paid. More clips for the file, I suppose.
11.3.06
Nietzsche and essays
This month will be a trial, but it will definitely make me stronger if the month doesn't kill me. I have three papers due at the end of the month, all relatively short, but I haven't a clue where to begin. The next two and half weeks will be interesting. My paper for social theory class isn't due until April.
I guess that's it for now.
I guess that's it for now.
10.3.06
Now I take the fight to the enemy.
Reading Daredevil recently has instilled a deep sense of justice and dignity within me. That may sound corny, but in light of my current situation, I remember how proud I am to follow the story of my favourite character and equally proud of Matt Murdock. He is a fictional character, yes, but he embodies the struggle I sometimes encounter.
I should mention that on the day of my morning anxiety attack, I had a relapse during my social theory class. There's nothing like being engulfed in paralyzing fear in a huge lecture theatre with almost a hundred people attending the class. I felt waves of undulating terror sweeping over my body, and I was dizzy and nauseas. I kept opening and closing my laptop, and then I finally walked out of class and called Lisa, who talked me down. Going up the stairs to exit the theatre was like climbing a hill on the Moon, my legs were as heavy as lead and each step was really difficult . The smell of stale body odour and old socks stung my nostrils. I honestly don't know what I would do without Lisa. She has supported me all through this difficult period, even to the point of taking me to the emergency room and staying at my bedside until I recovered. So, I'm taking a proactive stance. Counseling services are covered in my medical plan, and I'm going to set up an exercise regime plus more hiking trips. I have an appointment to see my gastro-intestinal specialist in about week. This problem will be snuffed out like a flickering candle.
9.3.06
Correction!
Ah, it's when technological design is isolated from social processes, not that it may be isolated from them.
Everything unfolds like a rose.
I'm currently in the library, or, more precisely, since there is more than the one library, I'm in the Irving K. Barber Learning Centre. I have no idea why it's called a "Learning Centre." It's a library. Well, yeah, one does learn in a library, but c'mon! Anyway, the Main library is being torn down, and this building is the first one to be built on the old foundation. The (ahem) Centre has become my favourite place to study these days. The building's interior is very modern and has huge windows, there's a lounge with long, wooden tables that resemble the libraries in old American universities and it's in a pretty central location. I've been told the law library is equally good, as well as the forestry building.
The reason I'm writing is two-fold. First, the pain in my side disappeared this morning and then returned just now. I did some serious "chair stretches" and now the pain is gone. Huh. Second, I was chatting with Lisa about technology, and here's a thought: technology sometimes has trouble keeping up with established social processes, especially in the computer field where the advances are towards usability. Unfortunately, because technology may be isolated from social processes, there's a cultural lag. That's why when we see an intelligent design (I think it's called "intelligent design" (not to be confused with the philosophical position) or "human design" or "human-orientated design") we truly appreciate it, because the design has aligned itself to current social needs. That moment of appreciation lends technology its aesthetic quality; the synthesis of form and function (since it outwardly expresses the designer's intention and relative position on design theory) is flawless, and as consumers of both materials and aesthetics, we consider the design to be successful. That is why we become frustrated and angry when the design is not properly aligned.
Also, wearing earplugs when you're studying? Golden.
The reason I'm writing is two-fold. First, the pain in my side disappeared this morning and then returned just now. I did some serious "chair stretches" and now the pain is gone. Huh. Second, I was chatting with Lisa about technology, and here's a thought: technology sometimes has trouble keeping up with established social processes, especially in the computer field where the advances are towards usability. Unfortunately, because technology may be isolated from social processes, there's a cultural lag. That's why when we see an intelligent design (I think it's called "intelligent design" (not to be confused with the philosophical position) or "human design" or "human-orientated design") we truly appreciate it, because the design has aligned itself to current social needs. That moment of appreciation lends technology its aesthetic quality; the synthesis of form and function (since it outwardly expresses the designer's intention and relative position on design theory) is flawless, and as consumers of both materials and aesthetics, we consider the design to be successful. That is why we become frustrated and angry when the design is not properly aligned.
Also, wearing earplugs when you're studying? Golden.
8.3.06
The adventures in my head.
There's a mix of snow and rain falling outside today. The snow tumbles down in thick heavy flakes then it softens up and turns into a gentle rain. The air is cold and damp, and I all want to do is go home and drink something boozy and hot while I'm wrapped in my favourite blanket. I really want to read, too.
I spent the last two hours fighting back another anxiety attack. Victory is just within my grasp, but I'm getting tired and concerned. I've been having this acute pain on my left side, just below my arm. It usually bothers me in bed, but the pain flared up while I was on the bus. So, imagine struggling with intense fear on a very crowded bus that's speeding down the street. Yeah, fun. The anxiety persisted when I was in class, so I had to take deep breaths and focus on the lecture. My approach worked, but how's that for commitment, huh?
Hey, the snow is back.
I spent the last two hours fighting back another anxiety attack. Victory is just within my grasp, but I'm getting tired and concerned. I've been having this acute pain on my left side, just below my arm. It usually bothers me in bed, but the pain flared up while I was on the bus. So, imagine struggling with intense fear on a very crowded bus that's speeding down the street. Yeah, fun. The anxiety persisted when I was in class, so I had to take deep breaths and focus on the lecture. My approach worked, but how's that for commitment, huh?
Hey, the snow is back.
7.3.06
ALL CAPS = SERIOUS
IF I SPILL ONE MORE IOTA OF FOOD ON MY CLOTHES I WILL THROW MYSELF OFF A BRIDGE. RIGHT AFTER I SET MYSELF ON FIRE.
5.3.06
Some notes on the terror of determinism.
The fatalist versus determinist argument will never cease to fascinate me. I've involved myself in this debate many times, either by design or by consequence. The argument is not necessarily a purely metaphysical one in this case; rather, I'm asking if human beings are ruled by expansive, pervasive biological impulses that are predetermined by a genetic master plan. So the question is, are we conscious? Do we possess consciousness? Is consciousness a clear view of our world and of ourselves, or is it merely a constrained window, pried open by our will or desire to survive, yet does not allow us to see all the contours of material or mental life?
We are terrified of not having control, or the presumption that we do have control over our bodies, our relationships and our psyches. Individuality is a valued sentiment in our society; that is, the individual's needs and desires are paramount, and we value our uniqueness and strive to maintain it (for further explanation check out Simmel's work on eccentricity). In this case, I would refer to this value in terms of morality, in the sense that it frames how personal character should be constructed and expressed. So, if burden ourselves with the knowledge that "outside" forces coerce us, then our moral framework collapses under the weight of existential despair. Well, possibly.
However, we cannot dismiss the potential harm of implementing social, political, economic or cultural reforms founded on a deterministic ontology. However, I'm still thinking about this point. There's more to come, I'm sure.
I just remembered I have some material on defining common sense somewhere. I should dig that up.
We are terrified of not having control, or the presumption that we do have control over our bodies, our relationships and our psyches. Individuality is a valued sentiment in our society; that is, the individual's needs and desires are paramount, and we value our uniqueness and strive to maintain it (for further explanation check out Simmel's work on eccentricity). In this case, I would refer to this value in terms of morality, in the sense that it frames how personal character should be constructed and expressed. So, if burden ourselves with the knowledge that "outside" forces coerce us, then our moral framework collapses under the weight of existential despair. Well, possibly.
However, we cannot dismiss the potential harm of implementing social, political, economic or cultural reforms founded on a deterministic ontology. However, I'm still thinking about this point. There's more to come, I'm sure.
I just remembered I have some material on defining common sense somewhere. I should dig that up.
2.3.06
Burroughs archive in New York!
Some excellent news and another incentive to visit the Big Apple. The Berg Collection of the New York Public Library has acquired William S. Burroughs' archive, which, according to BoingBoing, includes "11,000 pages of writings (published and unpublished), correspondence, collages, diaries, notebooks, photographs, and 50 hours of unreleased tape recordings." Now when I conduct my genealogical research I can browse through this collection with the intent of planning my master's thesis.
An open letter to professors and teaching assistants.
Discombobulated. That's the word that best summarizes my day so far. I missed my English class this morning and I didn't bother going to school yesterday. I read and bought comics instead.
So, an open letter to professors and teaching assistants: sometimes students get burnt-out, exhausted, confused or terrified. Students must endure these feelings as they progress through their academic career. You, as the teacher, have already gone through this stressful, difficult process already, how did you cope with the struggles as they appeared in your undergraduate years? Your students can't always produce perfect work or give a stellar performance during class. Some have obligations outside of school, like families or health issues that prevent them from being the ideal student. Do you find that students don't take advantage of your office hours? It's because of the obstacles I just mentioned, not because they're lazy or unintelligent or shy. Although, sometimes those are the reasons too. So, dear professors and TAs, keep these circumstances in mind before writing off a student who you think is simply slacking off.
So, an open letter to professors and teaching assistants: sometimes students get burnt-out, exhausted, confused or terrified. Students must endure these feelings as they progress through their academic career. You, as the teacher, have already gone through this stressful, difficult process already, how did you cope with the struggles as they appeared in your undergraduate years? Your students can't always produce perfect work or give a stellar performance during class. Some have obligations outside of school, like families or health issues that prevent them from being the ideal student. Do you find that students don't take advantage of your office hours? It's because of the obstacles I just mentioned, not because they're lazy or unintelligent or shy. Although, sometimes those are the reasons too. So, dear professors and TAs, keep these circumstances in mind before writing off a student who you think is simply slacking off.
28.2.06
A fine balance.
Although I feel as though I'm keeping up with the readings and assignments at school, my creative output has declined.
Maintaining a balance between academic responibilities and personal responsibilities is definitely an issue for students, particularly older students like myself. For me, writing is a personal responsibility, because it acts as an avenue of self-expression academic writing doesn't properly fulfill. I get irritable and abrasive if I don't write something or procrastinate on projects. So, the pieces I'm working on are clearly displayed on my desktop to remind me that they will not get finished and eventually published if I simply stare at them. Thoughts?
Maintaining a balance between academic responibilities and personal responsibilities is definitely an issue for students, particularly older students like myself. For me, writing is a personal responsibility, because it acts as an avenue of self-expression academic writing doesn't properly fulfill. I get irritable and abrasive if I don't write something or procrastinate on projects. So, the pieces I'm working on are clearly displayed on my desktop to remind me that they will not get finished and eventually published if I simply stare at them. Thoughts?
26.2.06
Notes towards a sociology of literature.
I've had this conversation before. The problem with my proposal is that it contains a two-part dilemma. First, there isn't much going on with literary discourse in sociology. Discourse analysis is prevalent, and it's a favourite topic of mine, but this type of analysis focuses on the utterance rather than the text; although, the analyst must rely on the textualized version of the utterance. Second, literary analysis and discourses on position and context can be self-referential, like the snake eating its own tail. The problem of presenting tautological arguments is subtle, yet real.
So, how does a text express the social processes one experiences in a society? Can a text reveal social inequalities in society? Although literary scholars are more than capable of addressing this question, the vocabulary available to scholars in this field is lacking, and it does not have the same texture and strength inherent in sociological discourse. However, sociology lacks the textual analysis critics take for granted, and has little to say in regards to literature.
Is literature a social process? Do writers, readers (or consumers), publishers and merchants participate in a social institution, a literary institution? Should we apply use-value and exchange-value to these processes?
Some texts are accepted into a canon (or the canon) and some are not. Hence, there are cultural "gate-keepers" at work, allowing some texts to be allowed entrance while other texts are neglected. I realize this is a very crude statement, but it's only the skeleton of a larger study. I was fortunate enough to hear a lecture on this topic at Simon Fraser University for an English grad student conference, meaning I'm not totally alone in this territory.
So, how does a text express the social processes one experiences in a society? Can a text reveal social inequalities in society? Although literary scholars are more than capable of addressing this question, the vocabulary available to scholars in this field is lacking, and it does not have the same texture and strength inherent in sociological discourse. However, sociology lacks the textual analysis critics take for granted, and has little to say in regards to literature.
Is literature a social process? Do writers, readers (or consumers), publishers and merchants participate in a social institution, a literary institution? Should we apply use-value and exchange-value to these processes?
Some texts are accepted into a canon (or the canon) and some are not. Hence, there are cultural "gate-keepers" at work, allowing some texts to be allowed entrance while other texts are neglected. I realize this is a very crude statement, but it's only the skeleton of a larger study. I was fortunate enough to hear a lecture on this topic at Simon Fraser University for an English grad student conference, meaning I'm not totally alone in this territory.
23.2.06
Thank you, Widgets.
Today, W.E.B. Dubois was born in 1868.
On the day I have to write a sociology exam.
On the day I have to write a sociology exam.
I will wage war on gravity.
Don't you just hate it when you finally get a stubborn stain out of a shirt or a jacket, only to spill some food on it again? Yeah, I just did that. I was eating a vegetarian antipasto sandwich when an oily piece of eggplant slipped out of the baquette and tumbled down the front of my raincoat. Now I have to go the bathroom and scrub it down.
I hate gravity.
I hate gravity.
22.2.06
An introduction to political philosophy.
I was going to write a tirade about the Conservatives, but writing about politics is like writing about entertainment. If you're not marching in the parade, you'll only get to watch the last pathetic float limp down the avenue as the balloons and streamers peel off its pastel hide.
But keep this mind, friends and readers: when the public refuses to mind the little waves licking the shore, we cannot prepare ourselves when we eventually face the crushing tidal wave as it looms over our heads.
Watch the shores, my dears.
But keep this mind, friends and readers: when the public refuses to mind the little waves licking the shore, we cannot prepare ourselves when we eventually face the crushing tidal wave as it looms over our heads.
Watch the shores, my dears.
21.2.06
Take your grievances to the appropriate department, sir.
I finished work almost an hour ago, but my reserves were completely tapped. The idea of boarding a crowded, humid bus then being wedged into a corner by a mass of Goretex and backpacks was not altogether appealing. Go figure. After a bag of dill pickle chips, which tasted remarkably like stale cheese, and cruising around the internets like a ravenous shark, I feel up to the task of actually getting home. I've been feeling pretty low since Monday. I'm not used to getting up before noon.
There's an exam on Thursday, and a relatively important assignment for English. I'm thinking of doing an online presentation on Emily Dickinson and her metrical techniques.
Hm. I have to write a quiz in order to further qualify for my exchange. It's one of those common sense quizzes: what would you do if you are set on fire? Yeah, those kinds of questions. I chatted with my co-worker, who also applied to Slovenia, and she was surprised that the exchange office has these incredibly difficult hoops to jump through now. And will the University of Ljubljana actually accept my application? Thank you, UBC. Nothing like keeping bureaucracy the navigable waters it never was.
Oh, bad sentence.
There's an exam on Thursday, and a relatively important assignment for English. I'm thinking of doing an online presentation on Emily Dickinson and her metrical techniques.
Hm. I have to write a quiz in order to further qualify for my exchange. It's one of those common sense quizzes: what would you do if you are set on fire? Yeah, those kinds of questions. I chatted with my co-worker, who also applied to Slovenia, and she was surprised that the exchange office has these incredibly difficult hoops to jump through now. And will the University of Ljubljana actually accept my application? Thank you, UBC. Nothing like keeping bureaucracy the navigable waters it never was.
Oh, bad sentence.
17.2.06
News!
I just received an email from the Go Global Program: my application to attend classes at the University of Ljubljana was accepted.
We will be drinking wine this evening.
We will be drinking wine this evening.
This is for the comic book people.
I have two items for your approval. First, for those who love all things Whedon (Joss, that is) then check out his verbal duel, if you can call it that, with none other than Warren Ellis. Read on.
Second, relating back to Ellis, an excellent example of what's to come in comics. This is a part of Ganges #1 from Kevin Huizenga, a title on Fantagraphic's Ignatz line. Manipulating the actual panel is not entirely new, but folding and overlapping it to suggest changes in time is really something to behold.
I got this from Ellis' article on The Pulse, which is very insightful, but there are messy segments in the prose. Click the link and look for The Ministry.
Second, relating back to Ellis, an excellent example of what's to come in comics. This is a part of Ganges #1 from Kevin Huizenga, a title on Fantagraphic's Ignatz line. Manipulating the actual panel is not entirely new, but folding and overlapping it to suggest changes in time is really something to behold.
I got this from Ellis' article on The Pulse, which is very insightful, but there are messy segments in the prose. Click the link and look for The Ministry.
15.2.06
Making goals.
I now have some goals for the rest of the year. I've been revising these items for quite some time, which is good, but I would much rather have a solid schedule than something fluid or ambiguous. When Lisa asked me yesterday what I want to be when I grow up (although I feel I've already lived three lifetimes) I simply said "writer." And then, teach at a university or college to make ends meet. If you want a picture of my future, then that's it. So, here's some short-term goals for me.1. Return to the Ubyssey. I know, it doesn't pay, but if I'm going to be a full-time student and a no-time writer I might as well be producing something. I'll be emailing the editor today.
2. Finish the first drafts for the three short stories I've been working on. Getting one story published is great, now let's see if I can keep up the momentum.
3. The play. Or plays. Yeah, there's another draft in the works. I'm going to admit defeat, but these projects will have to go on the backburner for awhile. Blah.
I suppose the last one isn't a goal.
How was everyone's Valentine's Day? If you despise the holiday with all your heart then you might as well move onto the next website. Yesterday was a quiet day for us. We slept in, I did some reading, then we went out to our favourite cafe and ate sandwiches and studied. Later, we went over to Jesse's for cake and wine, and we watched season two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
I hate to cut this short but I gotta get to work.
10.2.06
I may have misused the word "encroaches," but Reading Week is kind of damaging.
As Reading Week encroaches upon me, I know I have write up a schedule so I can maximize the time made available to me. I'll be reading Frank Norris' McTeague, plus some Durkheim and Wordsworth.
Some good news: one of my students, who I was tutoring in preparation for the Language Proficiency Index (or, the LPI) this semester, passed the test recently. Most students have to write the test in order to qualify for upper-level English classes. So, if you're working out of the Engineering or Science Department, you need six English credits, and one can imagine the horrified look in a chemistry student's eyes when faced with Anne of Green Gables.
Some good news: one of my students, who I was tutoring in preparation for the Language Proficiency Index (or, the LPI) this semester, passed the test recently. Most students have to write the test in order to qualify for upper-level English classes. So, if you're working out of the Engineering or Science Department, you need six English credits, and one can imagine the horrified look in a chemistry student's eyes when faced with Anne of Green Gables.
9.2.06
More poetry / prose games.
Consider this an experiment. Write a nursery rhyme, a fairy tale or a common, everyday event you experience (like brushing your teeth or shopping for groceries) in the style and tone of your favourite author. So, for instance, how would James Joyce write Jack and Jill? Try writing either poetry or prose.
Chris, the mastermind behind the The G33k, has an excellent example here.
The exercise is a great way to sharpen your skills and to understand how an author's voice is crucial in writing literature.
Feel free to email your submission to me (my email address is on my profile page) and I will post it later, with your permission. You know you want to.
7.2.06
5.2.06
3.2.06
Seth Fisher, RIP.
I just discovered Seth Fisher this year, through his work on Batman and Fantastic Four. Today the official statement was released: he fell off the seven-story roof of a club in Osaka, Japan. Man. His artwork was fresh and vibrant, and he put superhero comics back into the realm of the fantastic. Reading his books reminded me of the wonder and mystery that enthralled me when I first started reading comics over twenty years ago.Damn it.
1.2.06
The lesson.
My computer? The logic board had an aneurysm. The estimate? Over a grand. The result? Andrew talked them down to $100. The lesson? Computers don't run the world. People do.
30.1.06
The worst weekend in the world.
Hm. Well, to begin with, I had to rush to the emergency room Friday night, on account of a serious chest pain that had me experience the worst anxiety attack I've suffered in years. It was like a tsunami of fear and confusion. In the emergency ward, the nurses had me hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor, and one of the poor nurses couldn't find a cooperative vein to pierce. So, my right arm has some rash action going on, plus some bruising from another nurse taking a blood sample.
Experiencing that kind of fear . . . wow . . . I felt as though my heart would suddenly stop, and the life I've built for myself - school, relationships, whatever successes I've accomplished - began to swirl and disintegrate. The people I knew sped by, as though I were driving down a busy highway, flying past them as they waved to me.
Then, I had to finish my essay.
Which is done.
Then, on Sunday night, my beloved laptop went dead. Andrew and Lisa are taking it to the Computer Hospital this afternoon while I'm at school. I'm very lucky to live with such noble people. Apparently, the files in my hard drive have not been corrupted, but the damn thing won't boot up. The DVD drive has been acting up lately, so my theory is the drive finally gave out and affected the rest of the computer.
After class today, I went to the bathroom. Okay, bear with me here. I sat down, and was greeted by a cool, wet sensation on my nether-region. I sat in someone's pee.
I think I need a drink.
Experiencing that kind of fear . . . wow . . . I felt as though my heart would suddenly stop, and the life I've built for myself - school, relationships, whatever successes I've accomplished - began to swirl and disintegrate. The people I knew sped by, as though I were driving down a busy highway, flying past them as they waved to me.
Then, I had to finish my essay.
Which is done.
Then, on Sunday night, my beloved laptop went dead. Andrew and Lisa are taking it to the Computer Hospital this afternoon while I'm at school. I'm very lucky to live with such noble people. Apparently, the files in my hard drive have not been corrupted, but the damn thing won't boot up. The DVD drive has been acting up lately, so my theory is the drive finally gave out and affected the rest of the computer.
After class today, I went to the bathroom. Okay, bear with me here. I sat down, and was greeted by a cool, wet sensation on my nether-region. I sat in someone's pee.
I think I need a drink.
29.1.06
25.1.06
A meme I stole.
1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
I haven't seen my reflection yet, mostly because I don't cast one.
2. How much cash do you have on you?
$5.55. Oh, lord.
3. What's a word that rhymes with TEST?
No comment.
4. Planet?
The one with a Camaro on the front lawn, propped up on four cinder blocks.
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list?
Probably a telemarketer. If I had a missed class list.
6. What is your favorite ring on your phone?
"Wake up, stupid."
7. What shirt are you wearing?
Some striped number.
8. What do you label yourself?
"Half price."
9. Name the brand of shoes you've recently worn.
Blundstones.
10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark room.
11. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Tossing around in bed.
12. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
Text?
13. Where is your nearest 7-11?
No clue.
14. What's a saying that you say a lot?
"The English verb system is really complex."
15.Who told you they loved you last?
My bank.
16. Last furry thing you touched?
Um, yeah.
17. How Many Drugs Have You Done In The Past three Days?
What is With the arbritary Capitalization?
18. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
Zero. All digital.
19. Favorite age you have been so far?
The fetal period.
20. Your worst enemy?
The internet.
21. What is your current desktop picture?
The metal grill over the window of my favourite book store in Paris. Thin books are wedged between said grill and window.
22. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Haha! Panopticon!"
23. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, which would you choose?
Being able to fly. Then I can bill myself as "That Guy Who Can Fly" and make my million. Thank you, capitalism.
24. Do you like someone?
No. Yes. I'm really torn on this subject.
25. The last song you listened to?
Blue Moon, sung by Billie Holiday.
I haven't seen my reflection yet, mostly because I don't cast one.
2. How much cash do you have on you?
$5.55. Oh, lord.
3. What's a word that rhymes with TEST?
No comment.
4. Planet?
The one with a Camaro on the front lawn, propped up on four cinder blocks.
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list?
Probably a telemarketer. If I had a missed class list.
6. What is your favorite ring on your phone?
"Wake up, stupid."
7. What shirt are you wearing?
Some striped number.
8. What do you label yourself?
"Half price."
9. Name the brand of shoes you've recently worn.
Blundstones.
10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark room.
11. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Tossing around in bed.
12. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
Text?
13. Where is your nearest 7-11?
No clue.
14. What's a saying that you say a lot?
"The English verb system is really complex."
15.Who told you they loved you last?
My bank.
16. Last furry thing you touched?
Um, yeah.
17. How Many Drugs Have You Done In The Past three Days?
What is With the arbritary Capitalization?
18. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
Zero. All digital.
19. Favorite age you have been so far?
The fetal period.
20. Your worst enemy?
The internet.
21. What is your current desktop picture?
The metal grill over the window of my favourite book store in Paris. Thin books are wedged between said grill and window.
22. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Haha! Panopticon!"
23. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, which would you choose?
Being able to fly. Then I can bill myself as "That Guy Who Can Fly" and make my million. Thank you, capitalism.
24. Do you like someone?
No. Yes. I'm really torn on this subject.
25. The last song you listened to?
Blue Moon, sung by Billie Holiday.
23.1.06
Rant!
I spent my whole weekend reading. And taking breaks from reading. At least I made some significant progress.
Today is Voting Day. I won't be able to get to my polling station until after school, which is at 5. The station closes at 7. Yikes!
I don't have any big expectations this election. I know the Liberals will taken down a few notches, and the Conservatives and the NDP will do a little better than the last election. The Liberal's monopoly of the House of Commons will be shaken, much like the previous election, and they'll have to negotiate with the likes of Harper. Just keep Harper out of power, please.
The Liberals are very good at maintaining the status quo, and allow a small amount of change over a long period of time. The systems in place don't get gutted. The funny thing is, whenever there is a Conservative majority, Canadian society gets a swift kick to the kidneys. Say, like, the GST for instance. It's like your employer hiring his insane, backwoods cousin to come in and manage the business for awhile. Before you know it, there's pigs in the staff room and the store is open for seventeen hours straight.
Today is Voting Day. I won't be able to get to my polling station until after school, which is at 5. The station closes at 7. Yikes!
I don't have any big expectations this election. I know the Liberals will taken down a few notches, and the Conservatives and the NDP will do a little better than the last election. The Liberal's monopoly of the House of Commons will be shaken, much like the previous election, and they'll have to negotiate with the likes of Harper. Just keep Harper out of power, please.
The Liberals are very good at maintaining the status quo, and allow a small amount of change over a long period of time. The systems in place don't get gutted. The funny thing is, whenever there is a Conservative majority, Canadian society gets a swift kick to the kidneys. Say, like, the GST for instance. It's like your employer hiring his insane, backwoods cousin to come in and manage the business for awhile. Before you know it, there's pigs in the staff room and the store is open for seventeen hours straight.
20.1.06
Grading papers.
I'm about to finish my application to transfer to Slovenia. I have a second and third choice, but who cares? Slovenia. That's all that matters.
Did I mention I graded papers for the first time yesterday? Only two papers, mind you, but they were for a legitimate English class. I wrote comments that rivaled Booth's footnotes in Shakespeare's Sonnets. Grading papers is fun.
I'm taking tonight off. I expect movies and games and booze.
Did I mention I graded papers for the first time yesterday? Only two papers, mind you, but they were for a legitimate English class. I wrote comments that rivaled Booth's footnotes in Shakespeare's Sonnets. Grading papers is fun.
I'm taking tonight off. I expect movies and games and booze.
18.1.06
Hm.
Now's a good time to say that I'll be holed up for the next two or three weeks. So no weird news or rants about books or comics for awhile, at least not at length.
Besides that, the constant rain is getting me down.
Besides that, the constant rain is getting me down.
16.1.06
I feel like a screw-up.
I really do. Today I'm giving some forms to a professor and an employer so I can study in Slovenia. The professor wants to look at my work to date, which is fine and fulfills part of the requirement, but I left my work at home. I forgot. It doesn't look good if I have to make him wait until I get my work into his mailbox tomorrow. I mean, he's doing me a favour. Oh, well. I'll face the firing squad. I'm sure it's no big deal.
I love my job, but I'm hoping no one shows up during my, ahem, "office hour." I could use the extra hour to read.
Some projects: a sociology essay due at the end of the month and a plan for my Blake essay. That, with my creative projects, guarantees an interesting few months.
I hear my roof received a temporary fix. Huh.
I love my job, but I'm hoping no one shows up during my, ahem, "office hour." I could use the extra hour to read.
Some projects: a sociology essay due at the end of the month and a plan for my Blake essay. That, with my creative projects, guarantees an interesting few months.
I hear my roof received a temporary fix. Huh.
15.1.06
Weekend report.
Hey!
The weekend went too fast. Friday night saw me discussing social theory, hermeneutics and metaphysics over Guinness and curry fries. I was schooled that night.
Hanging out with Chris on Saturday was fun, as always. We played The Warriors (an exceptional game) and one of the most cathartic racing games ever devised. Because Chris is consolidating his media collection and moving to another flat, he relinquished some of his stuff onto me. I was totally surprised and delighted; it was such an awesome gesture.
Today I went out for brunch with Lisa, Jason and Jess, and later we went to Pulp Fiction so I can pick Gaiman's new book, Anansi Boys. I've been needing new books - whenever I have one under my arm it feels like a billowing gust as a train speeds past.
And I actually got some homework done.
The weekend went too fast. Friday night saw me discussing social theory, hermeneutics and metaphysics over Guinness and curry fries. I was schooled that night.
Hanging out with Chris on Saturday was fun, as always. We played The Warriors (an exceptional game) and one of the most cathartic racing games ever devised. Because Chris is consolidating his media collection and moving to another flat, he relinquished some of his stuff onto me. I was totally surprised and delighted; it was such an awesome gesture.
Today I went out for brunch with Lisa, Jason and Jess, and later we went to Pulp Fiction so I can pick Gaiman's new book, Anansi Boys. I've been needing new books - whenever I have one under my arm it feels like a billowing gust as a train speeds past.
And I actually got some homework done.
13.1.06
Everything's coming up J.
Sold sociology textbook for the class I dropped.
Bought sociology textbooks for the class I added. And, they were used.
Received a bursary for almost $600, which is neatly tucked away into my savings.
Laptop was given the gift of memory.
I have friends I'm proud to call my friends.
My work schedule will be tightened up this afternoon.
However.
The house is getting pretty rotten. True, I've neglected to tidy up - school keeps me locked up in my office. Next week I have to make doctor and dentist appointments. Don't ask me the last time I've seen a dentist, the answer is embarrassing.
The coming weekend is busy, though: I'm meeting the TA for my 350 class for beer, then I'm hanging out with Chris on Saturday, and then a ton of reading. I've been gaming a lot lately, which is good, only I'm not gaming as much with Chris these days. That will change. I'd like to either join or start a dedicated gaming league, where we organize sessions. The problem with getting older is that it gets harder to make time for leisurely things like games and such, so maybe making up a calendar of dedicated gaming days would solve the problem. There is the Vancouver Gaming Guild.
Oh. I have to go to work.
Bought sociology textbooks for the class I added. And, they were used.
Received a bursary for almost $600, which is neatly tucked away into my savings.
Laptop was given the gift of memory.
I have friends I'm proud to call my friends.
My work schedule will be tightened up this afternoon.
However.
The house is getting pretty rotten. True, I've neglected to tidy up - school keeps me locked up in my office. Next week I have to make doctor and dentist appointments. Don't ask me the last time I've seen a dentist, the answer is embarrassing.
The coming weekend is busy, though: I'm meeting the TA for my 350 class for beer, then I'm hanging out with Chris on Saturday, and then a ton of reading. I've been gaming a lot lately, which is good, only I'm not gaming as much with Chris these days. That will change. I'd like to either join or start a dedicated gaming league, where we organize sessions. The problem with getting older is that it gets harder to make time for leisurely things like games and such, so maybe making up a calendar of dedicated gaming days would solve the problem. There is the Vancouver Gaming Guild.
Oh. I have to go to work.
12.1.06
Post-class glow.
Apparently, there will be a "scheduled outage" on Blogger at about 3:30 PM today. I figured now is a good time to say that my American lit class was super fun and really enlightening. Not in a textual way (although it's always great to discuss some of Thoreau's more radical ideas) but more in a methodological way; that is, the ways in which we read, analyze and discuss texts, as well as write about text.
The idea that literary criticism is parasitic, or it relies on literature to sustain the genre, is not nuanced enough and quite reactionary. But that's just it, criticism is a genre, a philosophical discourse on the nature and being (a metaphysical discourse, perhaps?) of literature.
I also have some insight into whay I don't talk in class in more. I mean, I do, but not enough.
The idea that literary criticism is parasitic, or it relies on literature to sustain the genre, is not nuanced enough and quite reactionary. But that's just it, criticism is a genre, a philosophical discourse on the nature and being (a metaphysical discourse, perhaps?) of literature.
I also have some insight into whay I don't talk in class in more. I mean, I do, but not enough.
11.1.06
Announcement!
I found out last night that my short story "Apple Tarts," which is based on my friend Jason, was accepted to the 2007 edition of Pearls, the Douglas College student journal.
My first published story in a literary journal. What next?
My first published story in a literary journal. What next?
10.1.06
To the cyclist who splashed me: make sure you remove your asshat before you get on your bicycle.
I needed to take a breather this afternoon. This morning was rough. First, I slept in and missed my American lit class - the one that is fast becoming my favourite at the moment - and I had finished all the readings and took notes and everything. I wanted to point out that some of Emerson's passages from "The American Scholar" read like Marx (*turns pages to find examples* - ah, here it is: "Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things [. . .] The priest becomes a form; the attorney, the statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.") or de Tocqueville ("Another sign of our times [. . .] is the new importance given to the single person. Everything tends to insulate the individual - to surround him with barriers of natural respect, so that each man shall feel the world is his, and man shall treat with man as a sovereign state with sovereign state.").
I went to the book store to return two books, but the cashier (in the most polite way) informed me that I needed the same bank card to get a full refund. Disappointed, I left the book store and walked to work, and then someone on a bicycle splashed me with water as he jumped off the curb.
Sorry, I know it sucks when someone uses their blog to transmit their grievances to the rest of the planet. I now have a glass of wine (Terra Sana, a 2002 French red - the nose was remarkably medicinal, which is not entirely bad, while I picked up some some strong berry flavours like black current. The structure was fine; a simple, drinkable wine that lingered on the palette) and I'm about to resume my reading. I'll make sure I crash early tonight, and tomorrow night, so I can make my classes in the morning. My prof for American lit sometimes posts his lectures on the course homepage. See? Not all bad.
I am such a nerd: I get anxious if I miss my class, I don't speak up in class when I have the answer and if I go out on a "school night" when I have readings or assignments due. Ha. Yes.
I'm sending in my application to study in Slovenia this month.
I went to the book store to return two books, but the cashier (in the most polite way) informed me that I needed the same bank card to get a full refund. Disappointed, I left the book store and walked to work, and then someone on a bicycle splashed me with water as he jumped off the curb.
Sorry, I know it sucks when someone uses their blog to transmit their grievances to the rest of the planet. I now have a glass of wine (Terra Sana, a 2002 French red - the nose was remarkably medicinal, which is not entirely bad, while I picked up some some strong berry flavours like black current. The structure was fine; a simple, drinkable wine that lingered on the palette) and I'm about to resume my reading. I'll make sure I crash early tonight, and tomorrow night, so I can make my classes in the morning. My prof for American lit sometimes posts his lectures on the course homepage. See? Not all bad.
I am such a nerd: I get anxious if I miss my class, I don't speak up in class when I have the answer and if I go out on a "school night" when I have readings or assignments due. Ha. Yes.
I'm sending in my application to study in Slovenia this month.
9.1.06
My introduction to American literature.
“An immoral law makes it a man’s duty to break it.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Should I die before I wake - possible research material.
Brown University claims to have three books bound in human skin, an anatomy book and two editions of a medieval morality tale entitled "The Dance of Death." One edition was originally published in 1816 and was rebound in 1893 by a master binder in London named Joseph Zaehnsdorf. The Zaehnsdorf edition was left plain, in order to exhibit the cover's texture, which "has a slightly bumpy texture, like soft sandpaper. The spine and back cover, made from the inner layer of skin, feels like suede." The other edition has a golden skull and inlaid with black leather. The reason books were bound in human skin was to connect the text's theme with the book itself.
Apparently, the practice was common in that century, since "human leather" is durable and waterproof. Access to the material was rather limited, but doctors could collect skin from deceased patients, as well as from those working in poor houses or executed prisoners. Laura Hartman, rare book cataloguer for the university's library, cites from a article written in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in the late 1800's in which it "suggests that [the practice] was common, but [the article] also indicates it wasn't talked about in polite society."
Read a more thorough article on BoingBoing, just scroll down the page.
Apparently, the practice was common in that century, since "human leather" is durable and waterproof. Access to the material was rather limited, but doctors could collect skin from deceased patients, as well as from those working in poor houses or executed prisoners. Laura Hartman, rare book cataloguer for the university's library, cites from a article written in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in the late 1800's in which it "suggests that [the practice] was common, but [the article] also indicates it wasn't talked about in polite society."
Read a more thorough article on BoingBoing, just scroll down the page.
8.1.06
Sorry, boring.
The weekend is going by too fast, if you ask me. Robin and Grace came by Friday night, and the next morning the soon-to-be newlyweds made crepes (with condensed milk!) and sliced fruit for breakfast. At first I was a little discombobulated, since I'm so accustomed to making food for guests (or Lisa preparing the food), but while I was enjoying Grace's crepes and Robin's expert handling of tropical fruits I decided to have guests come by more often, or at least ones who are as charming as Grace and Robin.
I got Knights of the Old Republic over the holidays, which didn't want to run properly until Andrew uploaded a patch. Yesterday, while I was playing I tried to save my current game - I made some decent progress. A message came up explaining I had to delete an old game to make room for the new saved game. I did so. Still, no room. So I decided to delete my most recent save, thinking I will replace it with my current game. Big mistake. Even after I deleted it, there was no room. I lost over seven hours of game time.
There's a small Mac store at school. When I was over there buying headphones, I noticed they had upgrades for memory. Can you guess where I'm spending my money?
Today is going to be busy. Which is good. I have to read my texts, swing by the clinic and hopefully, get to the comic shop.
Okay, I just remembered I have to be at school tomorrow for 8:00 AM. The sociology class I'm waiting to drop has a seminar Monday mornings. I actually have to go, because I don't know if I will get into the class I'm replacing it with.
Eight in the morning.
I got Knights of the Old Republic over the holidays, which didn't want to run properly until Andrew uploaded a patch. Yesterday, while I was playing I tried to save my current game - I made some decent progress. A message came up explaining I had to delete an old game to make room for the new saved game. I did so. Still, no room. So I decided to delete my most recent save, thinking I will replace it with my current game. Big mistake. Even after I deleted it, there was no room. I lost over seven hours of game time.
There's a small Mac store at school. When I was over there buying headphones, I noticed they had upgrades for memory. Can you guess where I'm spending my money?
Today is going to be busy. Which is good. I have to read my texts, swing by the clinic and hopefully, get to the comic shop.
Okay, I just remembered I have to be at school tomorrow for 8:00 AM. The sociology class I'm waiting to drop has a seminar Monday mornings. I actually have to go, because I don't know if I will get into the class I'm replacing it with.
Eight in the morning.
6.1.06
A mash-up of news.
Oh, man. Yesterday my sinuses ached, I had a slight tingle in my throat and I was light-headed. Today, my nose is officially running. Congratulations J, you have contracted your first cold in years. Nonetheless, there is nothing more satisfying than expelling the foul contents from my nostrils into a waiting tissue. Having my nose cleared out so it can resume its respiratory duties can feel like a warming glass of aged whiskey: satisfying. I'm thinking of cutting out of work early today so I can rest and read. Robin and Grace are coming into town today and they might be crashing at our place. I can't be an exceedingly charming host, but the most I can do is actually be there if they arrive. I do have to pick up some things on the way home, so leaving early will buy me some precious time.
I dropped lit theory this morning. I didn't like it, but I eagerly await my theory courses in my third and fourth year.
Did I mention Robin proposed to Grace on Christmas morning, and she said yes? I want to send my congratulations to them both and all the best in their future together!
I dropped lit theory this morning. I didn't like it, but I eagerly await my theory courses in my third and fourth year.
Did I mention Robin proposed to Grace on Christmas morning, and she said yes? I want to send my congratulations to them both and all the best in their future together!
5.1.06
Notes towards "Patterns in group behaviour found in individuals within total institutions"
Years ago, I used to think that schools were structured exactly like prisons. The "inmates" were not allowed to leave the property, civil behaviour was rewarded (such as obeying the "authorities," or teachers and administrators) and deviant behaviour was punished. Last night I was thinking that schools don't resemble prisons, but rather the "clients" within schools and prisons are subjected to the same structure and behave much the same way (a strict hierarchical structure composed of small groups bound by ethnicity, class or personal tastes) because they are people confined to a kind of total institution. Because their day-to-day lives are so regulated and regimented, the same kind of behavioural pattern, modified in accordance to the socio-economic environment and the desired outcome of the total institution (prisons isolate offenders and attempt to rehabilitate them, schools educate children and contribute to their socialization; although, both institutions are agents of socialization), emerge within both institutions.
What got me thinking about this was the difference between public schools and post-secondary schools. If schools were prisons, then what about universities? Since post-secondary institutions are schools, then the same behavioural pattern should be apparent. My hypothesis is that the behaviour found in schools/prisons do not emerge in post-secondary environments. The difference between the two is the relative freedom granted to post-secondary students: they can leave the campus, choose their courses and regulate their own daily routines. Note the descriptor used: "institution." I should clarify how the terms are used in this instance. Institutions can be formal like schools, or informal like cultural practices. In this case, I'm referring to formal structures.
Where to go from here? Maybe examining the literature found in institutions (pamphlets, textbooks, "codes of conduct") and literature written by those in institutions. Is "common sense" taught in these institutions? How does this "stabilize civility" in society, in regards to Durkheim? Should Durkheim be addressed? I'll most likely cite Goffman. This is somewhat related to my notes on common sense.
What is the logic of the institution and how do institutional agents (both "clients" and "authorities") relate themselves to the rest of society? Does their literature reveal anything, like poems or personal narratives?
What got me thinking about this was the difference between public schools and post-secondary schools. If schools were prisons, then what about universities? Since post-secondary institutions are schools, then the same behavioural pattern should be apparent. My hypothesis is that the behaviour found in schools/prisons do not emerge in post-secondary environments. The difference between the two is the relative freedom granted to post-secondary students: they can leave the campus, choose their courses and regulate their own daily routines. Note the descriptor used: "institution." I should clarify how the terms are used in this instance. Institutions can be formal like schools, or informal like cultural practices. In this case, I'm referring to formal structures.
Where to go from here? Maybe examining the literature found in institutions (pamphlets, textbooks, "codes of conduct") and literature written by those in institutions. Is "common sense" taught in these institutions? How does this "stabilize civility" in society, in regards to Durkheim? Should Durkheim be addressed? I'll most likely cite Goffman. This is somewhat related to my notes on common sense.
What is the logic of the institution and how do institutional agents (both "clients" and "authorities") relate themselves to the rest of society? Does their literature reveal anything, like poems or personal narratives?
4.1.06
First day!
The first day was good, very good - now I'm exhausted and I'm ready for a hot mug of tea and a book. I was criss-crossing the campus all morning, dodging students and hunting for classrooms. Unfortunately, I still have some schoolwork to finish, like a short reading for sociology (Habermas and the public sphere) and English (Pope's essay on literary criticism) tonight, and some tomorrow. I already dropped one course and tomorrow night I'm going to try to trade sociology classes; lose Canadian social structure for crime and society. I don't need the Canadian class because (a) I have to take a Canadian studies class in my fourth year in order to graduate and (b) I've been thinking about crime a great deal, especially in light of the tragic shootings in Vancouver and Toronto.
I'm still debating about whether I should keep introduction to literary theory. Here's my reasoning: I don't need another first year course, in fact, I should be taking third year courses at this point. Since this intro class is a first year course, it will only hold me back. Second, the university offers exemplary classes in lit theory in the third and fourth year level. And to top it off, I already own the text book. Since I have the syllabus, I can simply teach myself the material. Why not? I've been an autodidactic since I was seventeen. I'll have to make a decision soon.
I'm still debating about whether I should keep introduction to literary theory. Here's my reasoning: I don't need another first year course, in fact, I should be taking third year courses at this point. Since this intro class is a first year course, it will only hold me back. Second, the university offers exemplary classes in lit theory in the third and fourth year level. And to top it off, I already own the text book. Since I have the syllabus, I can simply teach myself the material. Why not? I've been an autodidactic since I was seventeen. I'll have to make a decision soon.
3.1.06
Miles to go before I sleep.
Tomorrow is the first day of school. Almost everything has been taken care of today, like doing my laundry and organizing my notebooks and such. I still have a few little tasks to finish before I go to bed. I'm not as nervous as I was last semester; although, I'm concerned about making it to class on time. Most of my days at school start at either 9:00 or 8:00 in the morning, and everything on campus is at least ten to fifteen minutes away from one another. Ah, well.
I picked up Baudelaire's The Flowers of Evil (finally!) and Darwin's On Natural Selection at the bookstore, thanks to the gift certificate I got from my parents. For my thirtieth birthday, I want to sail Darwin's route around the Galapagos Islands, ideally in a tall ship.
One of the internet toys I've been exploring is Library Thing. I have an account and I've included just a few titles. Over the month I'll be adding more to my reading list.
Off to finish what I've started.
I picked up Baudelaire's The Flowers of Evil (finally!) and Darwin's On Natural Selection at the bookstore, thanks to the gift certificate I got from my parents. For my thirtieth birthday, I want to sail Darwin's route around the Galapagos Islands, ideally in a tall ship.
One of the internet toys I've been exploring is Library Thing. I have an account and I've included just a few titles. Over the month I'll be adding more to my reading list.
Off to finish what I've started.
30.12.05
I bought something for my computer and it will not work.
So. Christmas.
Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway: I had a really good time. We started in Chilliwack, where we were spoiled by Lisa's parents for a few days. Even Lisa's granny, visiting from Toronto, was there to celebrate the holiday with us. My gifts are too numerous to list here, but Santa was definitely paying attention this year.
We then made our way to the cabin in Sooke. Although it rained off and on while we were there, we did get to relax and not be bothered by phone calls or deadlines. The cabin in nestled along the shore of the Sooke Harbour, with a clear view of the mountains in Washington State. I did a little impromptu bird-watching, read and dreamed about my thirtieth birthday. I actually went ice skating too; I fell down only once, much to the delight of the locals. One would think being born a Canadian, we come out with a pair of skates lashed to our chubby feet. Of course, if such a phenomena existed, it would surely explain the declining birthrate in this country.
I do intend to observe some New Year's resolutions this year. I know some folks think the idea of imposing personal change on oneself just because a single day tells us to is nonsense, but some of the positive changes in my life are a direct result of resolutions. The "no eating meat" thing I got going, for instance.
If anything, I vow to treat everyone I know with a year's subscription to witty and insightful commentary. Enjoy.
Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway: I had a really good time. We started in Chilliwack, where we were spoiled by Lisa's parents for a few days. Even Lisa's granny, visiting from Toronto, was there to celebrate the holiday with us. My gifts are too numerous to list here, but Santa was definitely paying attention this year.
We then made our way to the cabin in Sooke. Although it rained off and on while we were there, we did get to relax and not be bothered by phone calls or deadlines. The cabin in nestled along the shore of the Sooke Harbour, with a clear view of the mountains in Washington State. I did a little impromptu bird-watching, read and dreamed about my thirtieth birthday. I actually went ice skating too; I fell down only once, much to the delight of the locals. One would think being born a Canadian, we come out with a pair of skates lashed to our chubby feet. Of course, if such a phenomena existed, it would surely explain the declining birthrate in this country.
I do intend to observe some New Year's resolutions this year. I know some folks think the idea of imposing personal change on oneself just because a single day tells us to is nonsense, but some of the positive changes in my life are a direct result of resolutions. The "no eating meat" thing I got going, for instance.
If anything, I vow to treat everyone I know with a year's subscription to witty and insightful commentary. Enjoy.
22.12.05
Concerns and such.
This entry is more of a warm-up for more writing this afternoon. We drove into Chilliwack on Tuesday evening, and I've been taking it easy since then. Yesterday, when I stepped outside, I watched the thick fog lift itself off the mountains, revealing the tall, dark evergreens growing along the slopes.
I read somewhere that when you're editing or producing your play, you should be working on another one. I did just that. I had an idea awhile ago, and I wrote some notes months ago and last night I sketched out the first scene. As always, I'm reluctant to reveal anything over the intrawebs, except for one detail I don't mind slipping out: I'm really interested in Grand Guignol. Look it up.
I hope this whole "don't say anything in public" doesn't make me sound like a conceited jerk. I'm a nobody. I've written a little over the years, but nobody knows my name. That being said, I've heard horror stories about writers or other creators having their non-copyrighted material being swiped by less scrupulous writers and claiming it as their own. It happens. And since I'm a nobody, if one one day I actually come up with a decent idea then it'll be extraordinarily simple to plagiarize it. Have I written about this before?
So I'll be writing this afternoon and later we have to go out and do some shopping.
I read somewhere that when you're editing or producing your play, you should be working on another one. I did just that. I had an idea awhile ago, and I wrote some notes months ago and last night I sketched out the first scene. As always, I'm reluctant to reveal anything over the intrawebs, except for one detail I don't mind slipping out: I'm really interested in Grand Guignol. Look it up.
I hope this whole "don't say anything in public" doesn't make me sound like a conceited jerk. I'm a nobody. I've written a little over the years, but nobody knows my name. That being said, I've heard horror stories about writers or other creators having their non-copyrighted material being swiped by less scrupulous writers and claiming it as their own. It happens. And since I'm a nobody, if one one day I actually come up with a decent idea then it'll be extraordinarily simple to plagiarize it. Have I written about this before?
So I'll be writing this afternoon and later we have to go out and do some shopping.
19.12.05
This may be boring, but I'm happy.
I love it when everything falls into place. Our garbage situation is under control (a raccoon tore through the garbage bag outside and we keep forgetting to take the garbage and recycling outside in the morning. The trash strewn around on our back porch is cleaned up and everything was taken away by our friendly neighbourhood sanitation engineers), our Gmail accounts are back up and our internet connection has returned. Christmas shopping is done, banking is done and now I'm ready to take the rest of the day off, because I'm done. Oh, and I discovered The Engine. Happy days.
I'll be updating now and again.
I'll be updating now and again.
18.12.05
Working towards something here.
We finished up our Christmas shopping today - yeah, exciting. I'll be shopping for Lisa tomorrow while the aforementioned lady will be hunting out small gifts to fill out the bigger items.
The script is going well, but I might've been too ambitious thinking I could get it workshopped over the holiday. I'll be happy just to have finished another edit. Funny thing, writing a script. Every line has to count, I can't toss in a flat-sounding line just to provoke a character to say something interesting. There are always opportunities to sustain tension throughout a scene, and I pointed out some scenes that really need that kind of treatment. There are some books in my library related to my play I'm going to dig through.
I feel like reviewing.
Fantastic Four/Iron Man: Big in Japan
Tasty. That is the word I use to describe Seth Fisher's artwork. His work on the Legends of the Dark Knight story was a tremendous feat, including half-page panels crammed with pain-staking details without the cluster and confusion. Think Geoff Darrow but with a rounder, fuller linework and a softer palette. Very cartoony. Big in Japan is no exception, only this time the colours are lush and bright, and Fisher takes advantage of some of manga's conventions, like exaggerated features and so forth. The artwork works well with a story that is crafted like a classic FF story - a sci-fi parable that twists around like an eggnog-induced hallucination.
B.P.R.D.: The Black Flame
When I first saw Paul Pope's upcoming work on a Batman story, I totally mistook him for Guy Davis. That's actually a good thing - they may be similar, so that means they have the same strengths, right? Mike Mignola wrote, and it's great, etc. No, no, it's good. "The Black Flame" reminds me of, uh, I don't know, Doctor Doom? Some classic Marvel villain? Stephen Harper? Who knows. The funny thing is, I kind of like him. His menacing appearance suits the wide panels throughout the comic, but I would like to see some variety now and then, like smaller panels highlighting details during conversations. Anyhoo, it's kind of an epic story, so having a larger-than-life villain is fine, just fine.
The script is going well, but I might've been too ambitious thinking I could get it workshopped over the holiday. I'll be happy just to have finished another edit. Funny thing, writing a script. Every line has to count, I can't toss in a flat-sounding line just to provoke a character to say something interesting. There are always opportunities to sustain tension throughout a scene, and I pointed out some scenes that really need that kind of treatment. There are some books in my library related to my play I'm going to dig through.
I feel like reviewing.
Fantastic Four/Iron Man: Big in Japan
Tasty. That is the word I use to describe Seth Fisher's artwork. His work on the Legends of the Dark Knight story was a tremendous feat, including half-page panels crammed with pain-staking details without the cluster and confusion. Think Geoff Darrow but with a rounder, fuller linework and a softer palette. Very cartoony. Big in Japan is no exception, only this time the colours are lush and bright, and Fisher takes advantage of some of manga's conventions, like exaggerated features and so forth. The artwork works well with a story that is crafted like a classic FF story - a sci-fi parable that twists around like an eggnog-induced hallucination.
B.P.R.D.: The Black Flame
When I first saw Paul Pope's upcoming work on a Batman story, I totally mistook him for Guy Davis. That's actually a good thing - they may be similar, so that means they have the same strengths, right? Mike Mignola wrote, and it's great, etc. No, no, it's good. "The Black Flame" reminds me of, uh, I don't know, Doctor Doom? Some classic Marvel villain? Stephen Harper? Who knows. The funny thing is, I kind of like him. His menacing appearance suits the wide panels throughout the comic, but I would like to see some variety now and then, like smaller panels highlighting details during conversations. Anyhoo, it's kind of an epic story, so having a larger-than-life villain is fine, just fine.
15.12.05
A poem comes alive, part five.
Glenn Gould
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then
he calls up the radio
station (CBC I think)
from a phone booth, bells
ring in the grey air as
he sips soda, bending
the pull-top back
and forth.
Hm. I don't know about this one.
Anyway, I'm about to check out an art show featuring a performance from Jason. I only have an inkling of what to except, although I've been told it involves an arrow.
I'm setting deadlines and continuing to edit. I think having time off is a crime.
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then
he calls up the radio
station (CBC I think)
from a phone booth, bells
ring in the grey air as
he sips soda, bending
the pull-top back
and forth.
Hm. I don't know about this one.
Anyway, I'm about to check out an art show featuring a performance from Jason. I only have an inkling of what to except, although I've been told it involves an arrow.
I'm setting deadlines and continuing to edit. I think having time off is a crime.
13.12.05
What is knowledge?
Looking back on my first semester of university, I finally see that academia has its pitfalls. The irritating, convoluted bureaucracy, the Machiavellian politics and lackluster professors still plague universities. To be honest, there are times when I'm not entirely looking forward to being a teaching assistant in the future, but the bright spots in my academic career totally negates that feeling. Whenever I chat with the TA's or the profs about fascinating topics, or read something that forces me to pause and ponder over the text for days or simply wandering around the campus and admiring the buildings choked with ivy, I remember why I write and think and tutor. I'm connecting with over 500 years of tradition, of the basic human desire to understand ourselves and the world around us, because once we know ourselves we open the door to the rest of world, even the universe.
Sorry, I didn't exactly answer the question I posed.
PS: My English exam went really well! I'm proud of myself for remembering the fancy-shmancy terms and using then appropriately, but most of all, I'm really proud that I tackled metrical structure in the essay.
Oh, hey, check this out: if you Google (since when is Google a verb?) "Mr. Body Massage Machine Go," and you must include the quotation marks, my blog entry from last year is the first hit. It's the title for the post. Creeeepy.
Sorry, I didn't exactly answer the question I posed.
PS: My English exam went really well! I'm proud of myself for remembering the fancy-shmancy terms and using then appropriately, but most of all, I'm really proud that I tackled metrical structure in the essay.
Oh, hey, check this out: if you Google (since when is Google a verb?) "Mr. Body Massage Machine Go," and you must include the quotation marks, my blog entry from last year is the first hit. It's the title for the post. Creeeepy.
12.12.05
Short, like daylight in winter.
So, not much to say. The linguistics final went well - I flubbed a couple of lines but my esteemed colleague filled in the details I missed. It's funny watching profs be themselves when they're not wearing the teacher face, joking around and flailing about like a frightened fish at the bottom of a rowboat. Our poster had a clean design to it: uncluttered text and strong visuals. Not bad for a presentation at 8:30 in the morning.
I'm putting my house in order for the rest of the day. Try to get some more editing done, prepare my notes for the English exam and watch some Firefly. I really want to get some more gaming in and snowshoe as much as possible. Lisa wants to cross-country ski, which I'm terrible at, but I'm willing to re-learn walking up and down hills in skis.
With the federal government in a small degree of turmoil, the atmosphere seems a little electric, doesn't it?
Above, the view from my office in late autumn.
9.12.05
The first X-mas expedition, some drama.
We just got back from doing some Christmas shopping. We did really well on our first expedition, keeping within our budget and cruising the stores for something that might stand out for us. For years, I was terrible at giving gifts. Either they were, well, inadequate to say the least, or I simply didn't buy anything at all. Nowadays I'm more than happy (although at times reluctant) to cut a swath through the belligerent, salivating Christmas shoppers to pluck holiday gifts from perfumed stores. There is something about being immersed in a crowd, as though I'm part of something much grander than my own mundane concerns.
Yes, I know, Christmas is overly commericalized, blah, blah, etc. When I'm eating Christmas dinner with my family then settling into the couch with some eggnog, the last thing on my mind is how miserable the world is. I know the world sucks sometimes, but my heart needs a break. Just seeing families being together means more to me than people's childish posturing.
Looked over the play yesterday and started editing today. Yeah, a bit of work this one. I really need to establish the characters' motivations, and untangle some condensed dialogue. At times, the character's leap from one topic to the next like rabbits, with no logic behind the shifts. I'll keep working.
Keepin' on, keepin' on.
Yes, I know, Christmas is overly commericalized, blah, blah, etc. When I'm eating Christmas dinner with my family then settling into the couch with some eggnog, the last thing on my mind is how miserable the world is. I know the world sucks sometimes, but my heart needs a break. Just seeing families being together means more to me than people's childish posturing.
Looked over the play yesterday and started editing today. Yeah, a bit of work this one. I really need to establish the characters' motivations, and untangle some condensed dialogue. At times, the character's leap from one topic to the next like rabbits, with no logic behind the shifts. I'll keep working.
Keepin' on, keepin' on.
6.12.05
This I know.
I forgot to include this - some ideas for future research.
1. Doing a in-depth analysis of Marx's position on poverty and how the poor fit into his theory. I already know a quick and fast answer, but I want to collect all I can and go over the text myself.
2. Reevaluating Marx's quantitative data and overall methodology.
3. A research question: why is anarchist literature not discussed in conjunction with Marxist theory, especially those written prior to or during Marx's time? Historically, Marx's debates with notable anarchists like Bakunin (Marx's rival, actually) should be addressed. I'm not arguing that anarchist literature should be included, I only want to know why it is not included.
Relating Simmel to this question: our task is not to condone or condemn, but to understand.
1. Doing a in-depth analysis of Marx's position on poverty and how the poor fit into his theory. I already know a quick and fast answer, but I want to collect all I can and go over the text myself.
2. Reevaluating Marx's quantitative data and overall methodology.
3. A research question: why is anarchist literature not discussed in conjunction with Marxist theory, especially those written prior to or during Marx's time? Historically, Marx's debates with notable anarchists like Bakunin (Marx's rival, actually) should be addressed. I'm not arguing that anarchist literature should be included, I only want to know why it is not included.
Relating Simmel to this question: our task is not to condone or condemn, but to understand.
I don't know anymore.
So the study group meeting was a success. After four hours of preparation - that included a trip to the Oversized Office Supply Depot - the poster, which will be used as a visual guide when we present the article, is trimmed and pasted as though it were forged by Galactus himself.
Besides that, I checked out daypacks at MEC and I wasn't impressed.
I'll be writing all week.
Besides that, I checked out daypacks at MEC and I wasn't impressed.
I'll be writing all week.
Errata
For the record, Julia was also a member of our snowshoe expedition.
Management apologizes for this oversight. These things happen.
Management apologizes for this oversight. These things happen.
5.12.05
Stuff to keep me busy.
Did I tell you all I had fun yesterday?
Lisa, Jess, Julianna and I drove (courtesy of Julianna, thanks again!) out to Cypress to get some snowshoeing done. When I woke up that morning the snow was coming down in thick, soft flakes - just the sight of them got me stoked to climb up a mountain. I haven't used my gear in awhile, so finding things like a compass or a headlamp or whatever else was a chore.
The hill was getting crowded when we got there, but luckily it was mostly cross-country skiing folks, leaving the snowshoe trails relatively empty. The tall trees were coated with snow, and parts of the trails were bookended by large snow banks. There were times when I had to run up the trail or march into a snowbank. We visited the hut and Lisa and I had coffee, chili and a muffin while we watched the falling snowflakes get thicker.
Hauling out my gear, driving out to a mountain and fooling around in the snow has ignited my love of hiking and climbing. I was thinking of heading over to Mountain Equipment Coop to get a new daypack (I know X-mas is coming, but I asked for a new backpack for school - okay, I'm a little greedy, I know) today after I do some dishes and return movies. Lisa and I will be taking in a matinee.
This is my first day off school. It is lovely. I will have to meet my linguistics study group tomorrow and study for my English exam (open book, wOOt!) but that's about it. I do have some writing chores, though. Submit some stuff to magazines, get the play workshopped (finally!) and find out if the student journal is taking any of my two short stories.
Lisa, Jess, Julianna and I drove (courtesy of Julianna, thanks again!) out to Cypress to get some snowshoeing done. When I woke up that morning the snow was coming down in thick, soft flakes - just the sight of them got me stoked to climb up a mountain. I haven't used my gear in awhile, so finding things like a compass or a headlamp or whatever else was a chore.
The hill was getting crowded when we got there, but luckily it was mostly cross-country skiing folks, leaving the snowshoe trails relatively empty. The tall trees were coated with snow, and parts of the trails were bookended by large snow banks. There were times when I had to run up the trail or march into a snowbank. We visited the hut and Lisa and I had coffee, chili and a muffin while we watched the falling snowflakes get thicker.
Hauling out my gear, driving out to a mountain and fooling around in the snow has ignited my love of hiking and climbing. I was thinking of heading over to Mountain Equipment Coop to get a new daypack (I know X-mas is coming, but I asked for a new backpack for school - okay, I'm a little greedy, I know) today after I do some dishes and return movies. Lisa and I will be taking in a matinee.
This is my first day off school. It is lovely. I will have to meet my linguistics study group tomorrow and study for my English exam (open book, wOOt!) but that's about it. I do have some writing chores, though. Submit some stuff to magazines, get the play workshopped (finally!) and find out if the student journal is taking any of my two short stories.
3.12.05
Saturday.
I'm currently at a cafe trying to finish up this critique for linguistics. It's only one, well-developed paragraph, but I'm a little sick of writing for school.
And, time permitted, I will try to make it a classmate's performance at the Chan Centre on campus. I really want to go, but my life is becoming exceedingly complex with school work and the burning desire to take it easy after my first semester of university.
Last night I was at a house party in the middle of the nowhere. That's not fair. The house is situated on the border between New Westminster and Burnaby - technically on the cusp of nowhere.
I'm waiting for Lisa and Jess to show up. The paragraph will be done.
Here's my plans for the holidays: do some snowshoeing and hiking, catch up on my reading, prepare a budget for next semester, do some Christmas shopping with Lisa and see some friends. We might be hosting a holiday potluck, kind of like what we had last year but with more food (potluck, see?) and more people.
Lisa is here. Later
And, time permitted, I will try to make it a classmate's performance at the Chan Centre on campus. I really want to go, but my life is becoming exceedingly complex with school work and the burning desire to take it easy after my first semester of university.
Last night I was at a house party in the middle of the nowhere. That's not fair. The house is situated on the border between New Westminster and Burnaby - technically on the cusp of nowhere.
I'm waiting for Lisa and Jess to show up. The paragraph will be done.
Here's my plans for the holidays: do some snowshoeing and hiking, catch up on my reading, prepare a budget for next semester, do some Christmas shopping with Lisa and see some friends. We might be hosting a holiday potluck, kind of like what we had last year but with more food (potluck, see?) and more people.
Lisa is here. Later
1.12.05
It's hard to talk.
Another hour before the workshop. I have to admit, I'm getting a little nervous. Probably because I'm afraid of looking nervous in front of the students and no one wants to listen to a facilitator trying to keep vomit from rising up his throat. It's hard to talk with throw-up in your mouth.
Hand-outs? Check.
Prepared notes? Check.
A loose structure for the hour? Check.
Whiskey? With ice, please.
I will be Voltron for the next two hours. Oh, I may look vunerable with just five robotic lions. But when the eleventh hour comes creeping up, I will combine my mechanical felines and form an unstoppable force of paragraph structure and time management. Somewhere in the back row an inhuman growl fills the room. I draw an oversized sword from out of thin air. Silence strikes the room. A hideous, tentacled monstrosity leaps into the air. In one grand motion, I sever test anxiety in half - the two putrid chunks fall to the floor with a heavy thump.
Hand-outs? Check.
Prepared notes? Check.
A loose structure for the hour? Check.
Whiskey? With ice, please.
I will be Voltron for the next two hours. Oh, I may look vunerable with just five robotic lions. But when the eleventh hour comes creeping up, I will combine my mechanical felines and form an unstoppable force of paragraph structure and time management. Somewhere in the back row an inhuman growl fills the room. I draw an oversized sword from out of thin air. Silence strikes the room. A hideous, tentacled monstrosity leaps into the air. In one grand motion, I sever test anxiety in half - the two putrid chunks fall to the floor with a heavy thump.
30.11.05
My foot.
My ankle is fine. There doesn't seem to be any sprain in the area, but my foot has a gigantic bruise along the metatarsal bones.
The exam went really well! I wrote a brief essay on how Weber's definition of sociology (an interpretative understanding of social action) applies to Simmel's thesis on mental life and the city.
Now I have to prepare for my workshop and write a paragraph for linguistics. I have it easy; next semester I'm taking four courses. I was on the waitlist for Introduction to Literary Theory, but I found out yesterday that I'm now in the class.
Two more days, people. Two more days.
The exam went really well! I wrote a brief essay on how Weber's definition of sociology (an interpretative understanding of social action) applies to Simmel's thesis on mental life and the city.
Now I have to prepare for my workshop and write a paragraph for linguistics. I have it easy; next semester I'm taking four courses. I was on the waitlist for Introduction to Literary Theory, but I found out yesterday that I'm now in the class.
Two more days, people. Two more days.
28.11.05
Some news.
I'm totally self-absorbed today. I have a sociology exam on Wednesday, so I've been studying for quite some time. But while I was submerged in turn of the century social theory, the Canadian government was dissolved today. The vote of no confidence went through. I figured the Tories were all over this scheme, but apparently the NDP were also instrumental in spearheading this maneuver. I will continue to follow these events, without a doubt.
I sprained my foot on the way home today. As I was exiting the bus, the man in front of me suddenly stopped, with one foot on the curb and the other firmly planted on the bottom step. He was chatting on his cell phone. I had to halt, and in the process my left foot (my favourite one!) slipped and bent at an acute angle, folding over like a thick wad of paper. I shrieked and hobbled over to a bench to examine the poor appendage. Nothing broken. I spent the last two hours with my foot elevated on a stool, nestled next to an icepack. My left foot and sociology: the reasons I would probably miss our first contact with extra-terrestrial life.
On the last poem: I don't know why I separated the poem into two stanzas. It seemed to contain two distinct scenes. I pondered over the new line for awhile ("grey air") in an attempt to draw a correlation between church bells and a ringing phone. I think another draft is due.
I sprained my foot on the way home today. As I was exiting the bus, the man in front of me suddenly stopped, with one foot on the curb and the other firmly planted on the bottom step. He was chatting on his cell phone. I had to halt, and in the process my left foot (my favourite one!) slipped and bent at an acute angle, folding over like a thick wad of paper. I shrieked and hobbled over to a bench to examine the poor appendage. Nothing broken. I spent the last two hours with my foot elevated on a stool, nestled next to an icepack. My left foot and sociology: the reasons I would probably miss our first contact with extra-terrestrial life.
On the last poem: I don't know why I separated the poem into two stanzas. It seemed to contain two distinct scenes. I pondered over the new line for awhile ("grey air") in an attempt to draw a correlation between church bells and a ringing phone. I think another draft is due.
<. .>
While I was standing on the sidewalk outside our house, the cat who lives downstairs came peeking put of the alley down the street. He looked at me, then crossed the street. He walked along the edge of the sidewalk, skirting the parked cars. When he passed me and was at a fair distance, he crossed back across the street, stepped onto the corner and sauntered towards his door, which is on the side of the house. The cat avoided me. I was offended.
27.11.05
A poem comes alive, part three.
Glenn Gould
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then
he calls up the radio
station (CBC I think)
from a phone booth, bells
ring in the grey air as
he sips soda, bending
the pull-top
back and forth, back
and forth.
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then
he calls up the radio
station (CBC I think)
from a phone booth, bells
ring in the grey air as
he sips soda, bending
the pull-top
back and forth, back
and forth.
Go here.
Chris has renovated his website to continue writing his insightful commentary on comics and games. If you read funny books or watch Veronia Mars, then make yourself a pot of tea and enjoy his site.
Click on The G33k on the links bar, just to your right.
I'm about a quarter of the way into my English paper. I want to write on lineation in Stephanie Bolster's White Stone, but one of the paragraphs is leaning towards stanza structure. The other two are strictly about lineation. Or not. I'm giving one of her prose poems a run down, which involves stanza structuring as much as lineation. Things can change. It's just that lineation seems to be a more sophisticated topic. I can be sophisticated.
Click on The G33k on the links bar, just to your right.
I'm about a quarter of the way into my English paper. I want to write on lineation in Stephanie Bolster's White Stone, but one of the paragraphs is leaning towards stanza structure. The other two are strictly about lineation. Or not. I'm giving one of her prose poems a run down, which involves stanza structuring as much as lineation. Things can change. It's just that lineation seems to be a more sophisticated topic. I can be sophisticated.
Cheese and fleas and other awful domestic concerns.
I can't sleep.
After reading my book and browsing the internets for half an hour I couldn't get my eyelids to slip over the two orbs in my head. I might as well update. Let's see, what's going in my head at 2:30 in the morning?
We had some lovely cheese a few days ago.
The story goes like this: Lisa rented a car so we can get our cat to the vet. He was fine in the waiting room, but once he got out of his kennel (or, the vet pulling him out and Lisa sliding the kennel off the cat as though it were a sweater) he growled, hissed and bit anyone who dared to get too close. We found out that he is mostly likely asthmatic (science types have invented an asthma puffer for cats, which is way too easy to make fun of) and of course, a flea infestation. Lisa treated the little beast this evening. So, we had a car. This is a commodity we normally don't have access to, so we decided to pretend we were fabulously wealthy and shopped at Friends of Cheese. We picked up some Stilton, Guinness cheddar and the Red Dragon: a Welsh cheddar imbued with a liberal dose of mustard seeds, lending the cheese an intriguing peppery snap. There you go. Cheese. And, I picked up some creme fraiche and mixed it with a raspberry reduction, making a kind of fool - fruit and whipped cream tossed together like a salad.
All the things I mentioned a few posts ago, like meeting Iain and going out for breakfast with Margo, all happened according to plan. All that, and a healthy dose of Chris. A satisfying Friday night and Saturday. When Iain and I were escaping Richmond Friday night we stopped at a shop called the "Liquor Depot." With a name like that, we had to go in and buy booze. When we got to the counter, there was a couple of posters of guys who presumably lifted merchandise from the shop. One of the pictures, which was a dodgy looking guy wearing a white hoodie, had a name scrawled along the bottom: Johnny Blaze. Freakin' Ghost Rider lifted booze from the Liquor Depot.
After reading my book and browsing the internets for half an hour I couldn't get my eyelids to slip over the two orbs in my head. I might as well update. Let's see, what's going in my head at 2:30 in the morning?
We had some lovely cheese a few days ago.
The story goes like this: Lisa rented a car so we can get our cat to the vet. He was fine in the waiting room, but once he got out of his kennel (or, the vet pulling him out and Lisa sliding the kennel off the cat as though it were a sweater) he growled, hissed and bit anyone who dared to get too close. We found out that he is mostly likely asthmatic (science types have invented an asthma puffer for cats, which is way too easy to make fun of) and of course, a flea infestation. Lisa treated the little beast this evening. So, we had a car. This is a commodity we normally don't have access to, so we decided to pretend we were fabulously wealthy and shopped at Friends of Cheese. We picked up some Stilton, Guinness cheddar and the Red Dragon: a Welsh cheddar imbued with a liberal dose of mustard seeds, lending the cheese an intriguing peppery snap. There you go. Cheese. And, I picked up some creme fraiche and mixed it with a raspberry reduction, making a kind of fool - fruit and whipped cream tossed together like a salad.
All the things I mentioned a few posts ago, like meeting Iain and going out for breakfast with Margo, all happened according to plan. All that, and a healthy dose of Chris. A satisfying Friday night and Saturday. When Iain and I were escaping Richmond Friday night we stopped at a shop called the "Liquor Depot." With a name like that, we had to go in and buy booze. When we got to the counter, there was a couple of posters of guys who presumably lifted merchandise from the shop. One of the pictures, which was a dodgy looking guy wearing a white hoodie, had a name scrawled along the bottom: Johnny Blaze. Freakin' Ghost Rider lifted booze from the Liquor Depot.
24.11.05
A poem comes to life, part two.
Glenn Gould
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then,
he calls up the radio station,
CBC I think,
standing in the phone booth,
sipping soda, bending
the pull-top back and forth, back
and forth.
I altered the lineation in this version, and included punctuation where I thought is would be appropriate.
Some news: I'm going out Friday afternoon/evening with Iain for good times, then having breakfast at quite possibly my favourite breakfast place in this city with the lovely Margo. Maybe other lovely people would like to join us? Margo and I both worked at the Learning Centre, and now she's at SFU. On December 1st, I'll be holding a workshop on exam essays for the UBC Writing Centre. It'll be an hour long (like an actual class!) and I have some fun ideas, courtesy of Jess (thanks again) so the students don't drift off to sleep. I'll be planning it out over the weekend, as I finish my English paper and study for my sociology exam. Oh, and the cat will be visiting the vet today. Heaven help us all. Coffee awaits.
comes back to life,
buys a grape soda
from a corner store,
one with a green aluminum
awning over the door.
Then,
he calls up the radio station,
CBC I think,
standing in the phone booth,
sipping soda, bending
the pull-top back and forth, back
and forth.
I altered the lineation in this version, and included punctuation where I thought is would be appropriate.
Some news: I'm going out Friday afternoon/evening with Iain for good times, then having breakfast at quite possibly my favourite breakfast place in this city with the lovely Margo. Maybe other lovely people would like to join us? Margo and I both worked at the Learning Centre, and now she's at SFU. On December 1st, I'll be holding a workshop on exam essays for the UBC Writing Centre. It'll be an hour long (like an actual class!) and I have some fun ideas, courtesy of Jess (thanks again) so the students don't drift off to sleep. I'll be planning it out over the weekend, as I finish my English paper and study for my sociology exam. Oh, and the cat will be visiting the vet today. Heaven help us all. Coffee awaits.
20.11.05
Notes Towards an Understanding of Common Sense.
In these last few days I've wandered the damp, foggy streets around my neighbourhood thinking about common sense. What is it exactly?
Initially I attempted to deconstruct the semantic implications. The word "common" refers to something "commonly held," or public property. A sense that belongs to us all. "Sense" is a slippery word. It is not exactly knowledge, or knowledge at all. To "sense" something and to "know" something are two different experiences. When I know something I am recalling a fact, and when I sense something I have an understanding which guides my actions. If there is common sense, is there a sense specific to a time, a place or a person? A police officer and a pastry chef would require different kinds of senses in order to perform properly. Furthermore, to possess any sense, one must rely on accumulated knowledge to inform this sense. Knowledge is the foundation of sense; collected fragments from the immediate, perceivable world builds and sharpens sense. Just so I can get my head around the word, I looked up sense in the dictionary.
sense |sens| noun
1 a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch : the bear has a keen sense of smell that enables it to hunt at dusk.
2 a feeling that something is the case : she had the sense of being a political outsider.
• an awareness or feeling that one is in a specified state : you can improve your general health and sense of well-being.
• ( sense of) a keen intuitive awareness of or sensitivity to the presence or importance of something : she had a fine sense of comic timing.
3 a sane and realistic attitude to situations and problems : he earned respect by the good sense he showed at meetings.
• a reasonable or comprehensible rationale : I can't see the sense in leaving all the work to you.
4 a way in which an expression or a situation can be interpreted; a meaning : it is not clear which sense of the word “characters” is intended in this passage.
5 chiefly Mathematics Physics a property, e.g., direction of motion, distinguishing a pair of objects, quantities, effects, etc., that differ only in that each is the reverse of the other.
• [with clause ] be aware that something is the case without being able to define exactly how one knows : he could sense that he wasn't liked.
• cause someone to (or start to) think and behave reasonably after a period of folly or irrationality. in a (or one) sense used to indicate a particular interpretation of a statement or situation : in a sense, behavior cannot develop independently of the environment. in one's senses fully aware and in control of one's thoughts and words; sane: would any man in his senses invent so absurd a story? make sense be intelligible, justifiable, or practicable. make sense of find meaning or coherence in: she must try to make sense of what was going on. out of one's senses in or into a state of insanity. a sense of direction a person's ability to know without explicit guidance the direction in which they are or should be moving. take leave of one's senses (in hyperbolic use) go insane.
ORIGIN late Middle English (as a noun in the sense [meaning] ): from Latin sensus ‘faculty of feeling, thought, meaning,’ from sentire ‘feel.’ The verb dates from the mid 16th cent.
I've eliminated some definitions that pertain to fibre optics and genetics. These definitions don't relate to this topic. Some important words that I'm pulling out of this text are "perceives," "feeling," "interpreted," "awareness" and "attitude." For the purpose of my study, I'm going to rely on these words as I embark on this subject.
So if I make the distinction between knowledge and sense then I can, with some confidence, say that common sense is a shared understanding of the world. Also, it is a way of doing things, a way of presenting oneself, a way of thinking about a subject and a way of responding to events - a way, a methodology. More later.
Initially I attempted to deconstruct the semantic implications. The word "common" refers to something "commonly held," or public property. A sense that belongs to us all. "Sense" is a slippery word. It is not exactly knowledge, or knowledge at all. To "sense" something and to "know" something are two different experiences. When I know something I am recalling a fact, and when I sense something I have an understanding which guides my actions. If there is common sense, is there a sense specific to a time, a place or a person? A police officer and a pastry chef would require different kinds of senses in order to perform properly. Furthermore, to possess any sense, one must rely on accumulated knowledge to inform this sense. Knowledge is the foundation of sense; collected fragments from the immediate, perceivable world builds and sharpens sense. Just so I can get my head around the word, I looked up sense in the dictionary.
sense |sens| noun
1 a faculty by which the body perceives an external stimulus; one of the faculties of sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch : the bear has a keen sense of smell that enables it to hunt at dusk.
2 a feeling that something is the case : she had the sense of being a political outsider.
• an awareness or feeling that one is in a specified state : you can improve your general health and sense of well-being.
• ( sense of) a keen intuitive awareness of or sensitivity to the presence or importance of something : she had a fine sense of comic timing.
3 a sane and realistic attitude to situations and problems : he earned respect by the good sense he showed at meetings.
• a reasonable or comprehensible rationale : I can't see the sense in leaving all the work to you.
4 a way in which an expression or a situation can be interpreted; a meaning : it is not clear which sense of the word “characters” is intended in this passage.
5 chiefly Mathematics Physics a property, e.g., direction of motion, distinguishing a pair of objects, quantities, effects, etc., that differ only in that each is the reverse of the other.
• [with clause ] be aware that something is the case without being able to define exactly how one knows : he could sense that he wasn't liked.
• cause someone to (or start to) think and behave reasonably after a period of folly or irrationality. in a (or one) sense used to indicate a particular interpretation of a statement or situation : in a sense, behavior cannot develop independently of the environment. in one's senses fully aware and in control of one's thoughts and words; sane: would any man in his senses invent so absurd a story? make sense be intelligible, justifiable, or practicable. make sense of find meaning or coherence in: she must try to make sense of what was going on. out of one's senses in or into a state of insanity. a sense of direction a person's ability to know without explicit guidance the direction in which they are or should be moving. take leave of one's senses (in hyperbolic use) go insane.
ORIGIN late Middle English (as a noun in the sense [meaning] ): from Latin sensus ‘faculty of feeling, thought, meaning,’ from sentire ‘feel.’ The verb dates from the mid 16th cent.
I've eliminated some definitions that pertain to fibre optics and genetics. These definitions don't relate to this topic. Some important words that I'm pulling out of this text are "perceives," "feeling," "interpreted," "awareness" and "attitude." For the purpose of my study, I'm going to rely on these words as I embark on this subject.
So if I make the distinction between knowledge and sense then I can, with some confidence, say that common sense is a shared understanding of the world. Also, it is a way of doing things, a way of presenting oneself, a way of thinking about a subject and a way of responding to events - a way, a methodology. More later.
On video games.
Saturday was fun. I hung out with Chris for awhile, discussing comics and all things geeky, then I swung by Iain's for drinks and video games. We played Star Wars: Battlefronts 2, which has its flaws, but is still a fun game to play. If you're a Star Wars fan and want to relive the action from the films, then this game will definitely satisfy one's urge to pick off Rebels with a sniper rifle.
I grew up with video games. I played Atari when it was around, then I received the Sega Master System for Christmas many moons ago and probably spent (read: wasted) a king's ransom in video arcades. I'm thinking of investing in the Xbox 360, since Sony has decided to install lockware (software that "locks" games to specific consoles, so users cannot install games on other consoles - but if your console is stolen or breaks down, the games you have will be useless) and are involved with other shady dealings around copyright and privacy issues. Boing Boing has some great coverage on the whole debacle.
Lately I've become a casual "gamer" - I hate that word - playing real-time strategy games (Rise of Nations is my current vice) and first/third person shooters (Halo is fun, but I'm more into historic games such as Battlefield 1942) like Battlefronts. I'm a sucker for Star Wars games. By casual I mean I (a) don't join clans (b) don't spend hundreds of dollars on gaming-specific PCs or the upgrades (c) don't (or at least try to) spend most of my waking hours playing them or discussing them. Lisa and I discussed my gaming habit, and she makes a good point: hanging out and being active is much more rewarding than sitting in my office for hours. My plan is to build a kind of schedule than limits my gaming time. Yeah, I don't mind the verb/adjective "gaming." It's a good word.
Getting some school work done. I want to post more later.
I grew up with video games. I played Atari when it was around, then I received the Sega Master System for Christmas many moons ago and probably spent (read: wasted) a king's ransom in video arcades. I'm thinking of investing in the Xbox 360, since Sony has decided to install lockware (software that "locks" games to specific consoles, so users cannot install games on other consoles - but if your console is stolen or breaks down, the games you have will be useless) and are involved with other shady dealings around copyright and privacy issues. Boing Boing has some great coverage on the whole debacle.
Lately I've become a casual "gamer" - I hate that word - playing real-time strategy games (Rise of Nations is my current vice) and first/third person shooters (Halo is fun, but I'm more into historic games such as Battlefield 1942) like Battlefronts. I'm a sucker for Star Wars games. By casual I mean I (a) don't join clans (b) don't spend hundreds of dollars on gaming-specific PCs or the upgrades (c) don't (or at least try to) spend most of my waking hours playing them or discussing them. Lisa and I discussed my gaming habit, and she makes a good point: hanging out and being active is much more rewarding than sitting in my office for hours. My plan is to build a kind of schedule than limits my gaming time. Yeah, I don't mind the verb/adjective "gaming." It's a good word.
Getting some school work done. I want to post more later.
16.11.05
My favourite quote, so far.
"Nature is a haunted house—but Art—is a house that tries to be haunted."
Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
15.11.05
Look at us now.
The problem I'm having with Blogger these days is the fact that the "Interests" and "Favourite Books" sections don't give enough room for all the stuff I want to brag about. I cut and pasted my profile from Friendster, but only a third of my favourite things appear. I should look into editing the old profile page.
I'm just doing up a short paper on W.E.B. DuBois and then I'm slinking off to bed. Lisa is staying up late so I figured I'd hang out with her for awhile and finish this thing off. No, not because I procrastinated. Well, a little.
Oh, last weekend. A brief summary: last Thursday I made the trek over to New Westminster to celebrate Iain's birthday and hang out with the Other Press crew, the student paper I wrote for when I was attending Douglas. Lots of booze. I played pool - I'm totally rusty, like an "iron nail immersed in a rain barrel for a century" kind of rusty - and I taught two people how to hold a pool cue. I received some compliments on past work and condolences for Terminal City. I ended up crashing at Iain's, and the resident cat snoozed on my lap. Friday night was the Terminal City get-together. Kind of sad, it was. Honestly, I don't remember much. I had the linguine (too much butter), several glasses of beer, aged whiskey, flourless chocolate cake (which was rich, but needed another dimension), creme brulee (now, that was fine) and some bites of other dishes. I remember walking home happy, but feeling a little empty. There should be accents for "creme brulee," but I don't know how to HTML that kind of thing.
Just two more assignments, then I'm free. My plans so far? Hang out with Chris and play video games with Iain. I've been invited to see Harry Potter - I'm not a huge fan, but it's wonderful to have kids reading and getting excited about stories and characters, so it's fun to keep track of the narrative. I don't have time to read the books so the movies shed some light for me. But, like I heard recently, Rowlings can't write a sentence without bogging it down with adjectives and adverbs. I agree. That kind of turns me off her prose.
I'm just doing up a short paper on W.E.B. DuBois and then I'm slinking off to bed. Lisa is staying up late so I figured I'd hang out with her for awhile and finish this thing off. No, not because I procrastinated. Well, a little.
Oh, last weekend. A brief summary: last Thursday I made the trek over to New Westminster to celebrate Iain's birthday and hang out with the Other Press crew, the student paper I wrote for when I was attending Douglas. Lots of booze. I played pool - I'm totally rusty, like an "iron nail immersed in a rain barrel for a century" kind of rusty - and I taught two people how to hold a pool cue. I received some compliments on past work and condolences for Terminal City. I ended up crashing at Iain's, and the resident cat snoozed on my lap. Friday night was the Terminal City get-together. Kind of sad, it was. Honestly, I don't remember much. I had the linguine (too much butter), several glasses of beer, aged whiskey, flourless chocolate cake (which was rich, but needed another dimension), creme brulee (now, that was fine) and some bites of other dishes. I remember walking home happy, but feeling a little empty. There should be accents for "creme brulee," but I don't know how to HTML that kind of thing.
Just two more assignments, then I'm free. My plans so far? Hang out with Chris and play video games with Iain. I've been invited to see Harry Potter - I'm not a huge fan, but it's wonderful to have kids reading and getting excited about stories and characters, so it's fun to keep track of the narrative. I don't have time to read the books so the movies shed some light for me. But, like I heard recently, Rowlings can't write a sentence without bogging it down with adjectives and adverbs. I agree. That kind of turns me off her prose.
13.11.05
Halloween 2005
The squash in question in broad daylight. This year's theme was "oversized goods." 
Creepy evening photo. The labotomy will commence.
I get fuzzy when I carve. Luckily, I stay away from turkey.
The little pumpkin is ready for its journey into the afterlife.
The final product(s).
I was accosted by a man-sized chicken outside my house. A chicken, I might add, wearing a cape and a belt. At first, I thought this peculiar poultry wanted to hand me a leaflet for the neighbourhood fried chicken restaurant - then I realized no such place existed in my neighbourhood. My doubts were verified when the chicken tackled me to the ground. Happy Halloween, Kevin.
12.11.05
The silver lining.
I have some things to look forward to these days.
I'm still writing. I got the jump on my freelancing career; there's an interview with Seth to sell (anyone out there interested?) plus some connections elsewhere. School is almost over, thankfully.
That's it for now.
I'm still writing. I got the jump on my freelancing career; there's an interview with Seth to sell (anyone out there interested?) plus some connections elsewhere. School is almost over, thankfully.
That's it for now.
9.11.05
eawlkfnhwfn
I just wrote my linguistics exam, and let me tell you: that was one of the most disastrous exams I ever wrote. I did well on about sixty percent of it, the rest were either left incomplete or incorrect.
What the hell am I going to do?
There is still a group project due at the end of the semester. I know we'll do well. No, we have to do well.
On the bright side, I seem to be doing great in my other courses. I missed my classes on Monday, somehow fell into an erratic sleeping/eating routine, and I'm behind on a couple of readings. I'm getting good grades in these other classes, despite my rotten habits.
I said it over the weekend. Now I'm saying it here.
I'm burned out on school.
The daily grind of going to classes, the constant critizing, the bureaucracy, the lack of money, reading texts after texts after texts and not having time to read what I want; I've about had it. I'm sick of writing papers on topics I don't care about. I'm tired of being in classes where almost everyone is at least a decade younger than me. I feel like a fraud. I don't belong here at all.
Most of all, I'm starting to suffocate in the closet. I feel as though I need to conceal my history and my politics, like if I "came out" no one would take me seriously. It's like I'm minority. People see me and they think, "another white male." It's funny how ethnicity and gender not only act as signifers, but also as a facade that conceals indentity. Identity is rooted in the historical relations that underline social relations in day-to-day life.
Thanks, Dorothy Smith. I feel better.
What the hell am I going to do?
There is still a group project due at the end of the semester. I know we'll do well. No, we have to do well.
On the bright side, I seem to be doing great in my other courses. I missed my classes on Monday, somehow fell into an erratic sleeping/eating routine, and I'm behind on a couple of readings. I'm getting good grades in these other classes, despite my rotten habits.
I said it over the weekend. Now I'm saying it here.
I'm burned out on school.
The daily grind of going to classes, the constant critizing, the bureaucracy, the lack of money, reading texts after texts after texts and not having time to read what I want; I've about had it. I'm sick of writing papers on topics I don't care about. I'm tired of being in classes where almost everyone is at least a decade younger than me. I feel like a fraud. I don't belong here at all.
Most of all, I'm starting to suffocate in the closet. I feel as though I need to conceal my history and my politics, like if I "came out" no one would take me seriously. It's like I'm minority. People see me and they think, "another white male." It's funny how ethnicity and gender not only act as signifers, but also as a facade that conceals indentity. Identity is rooted in the historical relations that underline social relations in day-to-day life.
Thanks, Dorothy Smith. I feel better.
8.11.05
Um.
That stuff at the very bottom of the page? The very bottom? That's supposed to be in the sidebar, directly to your right. Under the links. How the hell did it get there? Did it drink some bleach and fall down?
Must improve HTML skills.
Must improve HTML skills.
I would like a new liver for Christmas. And a pony. But not a pony's liver.
Here is my itinerary for the next few days. Does this entry sound a little downtempo? That's because it's raining and I'm (attempting) to study for my linguistics exam tomorrow. Oh, and the paper went well. I stayed up late Sunday night finishing it off, and I even included coloured copies of the prints and analyzed in the text, then related the analysis to the three theories (Baudrillard and Smith, and I'm hesitant to call Klein a "theorist" but her book, while a refreshingly light read, wasn't the usual postulating I'm accustomed to in sociology) throughout the paper.
So, I'm going to Iain's birthday party on Thursday. It's in New Westminster at some bar, where I hear offers one dollar shooters. If you really want to get blotto, and quickly, then buck-a-shots are fine. But I bet the cheap booze employed to concoct these "drinks" would make the palate "shrivel up like a spider with a pin in it." (Ellis, 2005: p. 3). On Friday, the Terminal City get-together. One thousand dollars. A handful a people. The handful of people will be eating and drinking an entire one grand.
MENACING, GRAVELLY VOICE: Ten strangers, locked in a comfortable bistro, must somehow survive the evening as they are subjected to a grisly test: one that will twist their wills, shatter their nerves and inflate their buttocks. They must blow one thousand dollars. Or they die. (The voice trails off, replaced with the dim hum and clatter from inside a restaurant.)
So, I'm going to Iain's birthday party on Thursday. It's in New Westminster at some bar, where I hear offers one dollar shooters. If you really want to get blotto, and quickly, then buck-a-shots are fine. But I bet the cheap booze employed to concoct these "drinks" would make the palate "shrivel up like a spider with a pin in it." (Ellis, 2005: p. 3). On Friday, the Terminal City get-together. One thousand dollars. A handful a people. The handful of people will be eating and drinking an entire one grand.
MENACING, GRAVELLY VOICE: Ten strangers, locked in a comfortable bistro, must somehow survive the evening as they are subjected to a grisly test: one that will twist their wills, shatter their nerves and inflate their buttocks. They must blow one thousand dollars. Or they die. (The voice trails off, replaced with the dim hum and clatter from inside a restaurant.)
7.11.05
6.11.05
A poem comes to life, part one.
Glenn Gould comes back to life
buys a grape soda from a corner store
one with a green aluminum awning over the door
then
he calls up the radio station, CBC I think
standing in a phone booth, sipping soda
bending the pull-top back and forth, back
and forth.
buys a grape soda from a corner store
one with a green aluminum awning over the door
then
he calls up the radio station, CBC I think
standing in a phone booth, sipping soda
bending the pull-top back and forth, back
and forth.
1.11.05
The End and the Future.
I want to return to a exercise regiment again, but school keeps me glued to the seat. Sometimes, I start to get worried if I'm not reading or writing school related stuff. I will return to the gym and the dojo soon.
Just to let you guys know, Terminal City has officially folded as of Monday. The publisher released a press statement yesterday after a meeting with the editors. My section editor sent me an email with her work number so she could relay the bad news to me. Ugh. There's going to be a food and booze session this Friday, with whatever backpay owed to writers and editors. This sucks. TC was one of the few independent media outlets in the city, and was kind of an institution for awhile there. I know the newspaper folded a few years ago and then was sparked back to life, but I'm skeptical such a rejuvenation would occur again. I get paid, I get fed then I get booze. A nice way to end, I suppose. I was thinking of cutting my ties with them in the future; I guess this is a sign, of sorts. I have my eye on the Tyee, Quill and Quire and, uh, well, I reckon that's it for now.
An essay due next Monday. Another exam next week.
Just to let you guys know, Terminal City has officially folded as of Monday. The publisher released a press statement yesterday after a meeting with the editors. My section editor sent me an email with her work number so she could relay the bad news to me. Ugh. There's going to be a food and booze session this Friday, with whatever backpay owed to writers and editors. This sucks. TC was one of the few independent media outlets in the city, and was kind of an institution for awhile there. I know the newspaper folded a few years ago and then was sparked back to life, but I'm skeptical such a rejuvenation would occur again. I get paid, I get fed then I get booze. A nice way to end, I suppose. I was thinking of cutting my ties with them in the future; I guess this is a sign, of sorts. I have my eye on the Tyee, Quill and Quire and, uh, well, I reckon that's it for now.
An essay due next Monday. Another exam next week.
29.10.05
Addendum
The Alice Munro event was okay. She was handed an award, read for twenty minutes then scooted off stage. No question and answer stuff, which is what I was looking forward to hearing. I wasn't very prepared, so luckily Michael, Lisa's dad, had a good question so he rolled with that and I eavesdropped. I got my quotes. All in all, a successful evening.
We decided to carve Darth Vader's portrait into the gigantic pumpkin.
I've been meaning to write about my Great Aunt Margaret for some time. From what I know, she was the youngest in my grandfather's family (on my dad's side) and was elected to be the one who would go to school and be the family breadwinner. So, the family worked so Margaret could attend university, which she eventually did. However, when she graduated, instead of returning to the family and working as a teacher, she "abandoned" them and fled to New York. There, she would eventually become the head librarian for Columbia University, where some of the Beat poets and writers attended. I don't know if she was working there when Ginsberg and them were taking classes; something worth investigating though. She never married and hardly kept in touch with her family. She did give my dad a book when he was young, but I forgot the conversation that was relayed to me. When she passed away - only a few years ago - she left behind a huge chunk of change because she simply hoarded it all and kept her money tied up in different accounts. The money was slowly dispersed among the family over time. But what is interesting is that she was something of a scholar. Not only did she leave behind some money, she also left behind her notebooks, which contain her ideas on language and other subjects. Two of my uncles are in possession of them. There is going to be a huge family reunion in August, so maybe I can gain access to her notebooks then. Who knows. I was thinking of making copies to evaluate their originality. I'm interested in all this because it raises some questions: why did she leave the family? Why New York? What else did she do there, where did she live? What are in her notebooks? So many questions.
We decided to carve Darth Vader's portrait into the gigantic pumpkin.
I've been meaning to write about my Great Aunt Margaret for some time. From what I know, she was the youngest in my grandfather's family (on my dad's side) and was elected to be the one who would go to school and be the family breadwinner. So, the family worked so Margaret could attend university, which she eventually did. However, when she graduated, instead of returning to the family and working as a teacher, she "abandoned" them and fled to New York. There, she would eventually become the head librarian for Columbia University, where some of the Beat poets and writers attended. I don't know if she was working there when Ginsberg and them were taking classes; something worth investigating though. She never married and hardly kept in touch with her family. She did give my dad a book when he was young, but I forgot the conversation that was relayed to me. When she passed away - only a few years ago - she left behind a huge chunk of change because she simply hoarded it all and kept her money tied up in different accounts. The money was slowly dispersed among the family over time. But what is interesting is that she was something of a scholar. Not only did she leave behind some money, she also left behind her notebooks, which contain her ideas on language and other subjects. Two of my uncles are in possession of them. There is going to be a huge family reunion in August, so maybe I can gain access to her notebooks then. Who knows. I was thinking of making copies to evaluate their originality. I'm interested in all this because it raises some questions: why did she leave the family? Why New York? What else did she do there, where did she live? What are in her notebooks? So many questions.
Titles are like women, they. . .oh, never mind.
I started my day on the wrong foot, or, to be more precise, I rolled off the wrong side of the bed at a very late hour. That's what you (meaning me) get for drinking Guinness until the wee hours. I used to think drinking Guinness was a cliche, but my position recently changed. As soon as I got old enough to stop caring what other people thought, I resumed sipping a deep, dark pint during my leisure hours. Mental note: buy some quality beer glasses. No, not goggles.
I have 2000 words due by Monday. So gentlemen, boot up your laptops. The situation is controllable and is easily accomplished as soon as I sit down and bang it out. Lisa is kind enough to fry up some breakfast and brew a pot of coffee.
Besides that, I don't have much to report. That's the problem of being in a rut, either a good or bad one; your day-to-day may have brief moments of joyous triumphs or crushing defeats, but no one within earshot of you really wants to listen. No, they'd rather fling their helpless bodies over a tall bridge than listen to another anecdote.
I did go to the Buffy Sing-Along. And so, here's a quick rundown.
1. Before the films, or shows, we were treated to a collection of corny commercials and bad cable television, and an indie vampire film. I felt like I returned home.
2. We watched "Hush," and the audience had to keep quiet during the silent periods until the end. Then, we could scream our lungs out at the climax.
3. Some folks volunteered to play Buffy trivia. Winners took away some free DVD's.
4. There were two drunk idiots yelling at the MC, who is also the organizer, and one of them ended up tossing abrick bottle through one of the theatre's windows doors when they were escorted out. This is kind of a generalization, but that's the gist of the situation. So, you two like independent film? Is that why you vandalized the only art house theatre in this city? Idiots.
5. There was also Buffy karaoke. Let me explain. First, an episode is played without any sound, but the dialogue is displayed on the bottom of the screen. Couples had to read the dialogue and act out the scene the best they can. Wouldn't you know it, the drunk idiots were one of the contenders. They did not win.
6. They played "Once More with Feeling," and the audience sang along all throughout it. We blew bubbles during the Willow and Tara song, wore plastic fangs as we sang along with Spike, and underwear was thrown in the air whenever someone said "I'm not wearing underwear" on screen. The event was like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, only for a younger set and it had vampires and relatively recent pop culture references. Yeah, and during the song "Walk Through the Fire" people lifted their cell phones into the air. The plan was to use lighters, which were in the gift bags attendees received, but lighting them is a fire code violation and would set off the sprinklers. Still, the cell phones were fun.
And that's it for me.
I have 2000 words due by Monday. So gentlemen, boot up your laptops. The situation is controllable and is easily accomplished as soon as I sit down and bang it out. Lisa is kind enough to fry up some breakfast and brew a pot of coffee.
Besides that, I don't have much to report. That's the problem of being in a rut, either a good or bad one; your day-to-day may have brief moments of joyous triumphs or crushing defeats, but no one within earshot of you really wants to listen. No, they'd rather fling their helpless bodies over a tall bridge than listen to another anecdote.
I did go to the Buffy Sing-Along. And so, here's a quick rundown.
1. Before the films, or shows, we were treated to a collection of corny commercials and bad cable television, and an indie vampire film. I felt like I returned home.
2. We watched "Hush," and the audience had to keep quiet during the silent periods until the end. Then, we could scream our lungs out at the climax.
3. Some folks volunteered to play Buffy trivia. Winners took away some free DVD's.
4. There were two drunk idiots yelling at the MC, who is also the organizer, and one of them ended up tossing a
5. There was also Buffy karaoke. Let me explain. First, an episode is played without any sound, but the dialogue is displayed on the bottom of the screen. Couples had to read the dialogue and act out the scene the best they can. Wouldn't you know it, the drunk idiots were one of the contenders. They did not win.
6. They played "Once More with Feeling," and the audience sang along all throughout it. We blew bubbles during the Willow and Tara song, wore plastic fangs as we sang along with Spike, and underwear was thrown in the air whenever someone said "I'm not wearing underwear" on screen. The event was like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, only for a younger set and it had vampires and relatively recent pop culture references. Yeah, and during the song "Walk Through the Fire" people lifted their cell phones into the air. The plan was to use lighters, which were in the gift bags attendees received, but lighting them is a fire code violation and would set off the sprinklers. Still, the cell phones were fun.
And that's it for me.
27.10.05
(>I<)
Hey. I'm looking at my linguistics homework, which is due tomorrow, and I'm thinking "this is a five page homework assignment from the very depths of Hell." I've been to all the lectures, I tried keeping up with the readings and thought about the infromation, but this assignment is hard.
So much to do. So much to write about. I'm not complaining, but having a few days where I don't have to feel the pressure from deadlines and obligations would be a treat. And, Cinemuerte has reared its ugly head at last. Tonight we are going to the Buffy sing-along and a showing of "Hush," the silent episode with no dialogue at all. I think that's a first for television.
Trying. To. Get. Things. Done.
So much to do. So much to write about. I'm not complaining, but having a few days where I don't have to feel the pressure from deadlines and obligations would be a treat. And, Cinemuerte has reared its ugly head at last. Tonight we are going to the Buffy sing-along and a showing of "Hush," the silent episode with no dialogue at all. I think that's a first for television.
Trying. To. Get. Things. Done.
22.10.05
Weather: Cloudy and bright. Music: Cat Power. Drink: Coffee.
I just finished my breakfast (scrambled eggs fried with white onions, on two slices of toast topped with fresh tomatoes and chili peppers, and accompanied by homefries) and now I can take a breath and enjoy my hot, sweet coffee and write an actual update.
Okay, for starters, there's a pumpkin the size of car tire in our kitchen, courtesy of Lisa. I really have no idea what to do with this sucker. Suggestions have been tossed around: carve it up for Halloween, make something tasty out of it, smash it to oblivion - we have a lot to work with here.
Writing is still keeping me busy. I co-authored two articles on boxing with Lisa, plus I finished a food review. On Thursday I interviewed Seth (he's published by Drawn and Quarterly) to coincide with his arrival in November. He was really nice and cordial, and had lots to say about comics and illustrating. The two short stories have been sent out, and I await the editors' (who, in fact, are the creative writing department) decision. Tomorrow evening I'm covering Alice Munro's reading and Q and A for the Vancouver Writer's Festival and I have a few ideas for the future. Oh, and the two plays I'm working on! The radio play is on the back burner for now, but I wrote some preliminary notes and "sketches" to get me started. The stage play will be workshopped after my two essays are finished. I also have to get in touch with a dramaturgist who provides feedback for amateur playwrights.
My two essays are very exciting. No, really. For my sociology essay we need to pick a topic of our choice and somehow apply social theory. I'm thinking of looking at texts by either Jean Cocteau or Charles Baudelaire and discussing Dorothy Smith's "The Everyday World as Problematic" in relation to those texts. This is just a foggy, ambiguous idea for now, but it will solidify after I meet my prof. My English paper is a kind of "poetry contest" where we have to choose one poem from a list - one that includes Shelley, Pope and others - and explain why the poem you chose deserves to "win." I picked Sylvia Plath's "Daddy" because I tend to lean towards modernist works, even though I adore Donne. I've read Don McKay's work and I really enjoyed his poem "Softball," and I also read some Wallace Stevens; his poetry is extraordinarily subtle and downtempo, but the poems don't become too delicate, or else they fall into the saccharine trap.
Who knows. Everything seems to be the same: people are getting married, people are breaking up and people are falling in love. We lost Nicky the farm dog awhile ago (her picture is here) and it was a sombre day when we got the news. She was found in the open barn, lying on the ground. She may have died from kidney failure, so her passing was rather quiet and she didn't suffer. It won't be the same when she isn't there to greet us with her bright eyes and wagging tail when we arrive at the farm. Poor Nicky. We miss her terribly.
Tonight we are going over to Chris and Carla's potluck Turkey Day. Minus the turkey, of course. Well, for me and Lisa anyway. I have to head out and pick up some ingredients for our contribution. Ciao.
Okay, for starters, there's a pumpkin the size of car tire in our kitchen, courtesy of Lisa. I really have no idea what to do with this sucker. Suggestions have been tossed around: carve it up for Halloween, make something tasty out of it, smash it to oblivion - we have a lot to work with here.
Writing is still keeping me busy. I co-authored two articles on boxing with Lisa, plus I finished a food review. On Thursday I interviewed Seth (he's published by Drawn and Quarterly) to coincide with his arrival in November. He was really nice and cordial, and had lots to say about comics and illustrating. The two short stories have been sent out, and I await the editors' (who, in fact, are the creative writing department) decision. Tomorrow evening I'm covering Alice Munro's reading and Q and A for the Vancouver Writer's Festival and I have a few ideas for the future. Oh, and the two plays I'm working on! The radio play is on the back burner for now, but I wrote some preliminary notes and "sketches" to get me started. The stage play will be workshopped after my two essays are finished. I also have to get in touch with a dramaturgist who provides feedback for amateur playwrights.
My two essays are very exciting. No, really. For my sociology essay we need to pick a topic of our choice and somehow apply social theory. I'm thinking of looking at texts by either Jean Cocteau or Charles Baudelaire and discussing Dorothy Smith's "The Everyday World as Problematic" in relation to those texts. This is just a foggy, ambiguous idea for now, but it will solidify after I meet my prof. My English paper is a kind of "poetry contest" where we have to choose one poem from a list - one that includes Shelley, Pope and others - and explain why the poem you chose deserves to "win." I picked Sylvia Plath's "Daddy" because I tend to lean towards modernist works, even though I adore Donne. I've read Don McKay's work and I really enjoyed his poem "Softball," and I also read some Wallace Stevens; his poetry is extraordinarily subtle and downtempo, but the poems don't become too delicate, or else they fall into the saccharine trap.
Who knows. Everything seems to be the same: people are getting married, people are breaking up and people are falling in love. We lost Nicky the farm dog awhile ago (her picture is here) and it was a sombre day when we got the news. She was found in the open barn, lying on the ground. She may have died from kidney failure, so her passing was rather quiet and she didn't suffer. It won't be the same when she isn't there to greet us with her bright eyes and wagging tail when we arrive at the farm. Poor Nicky. We miss her terribly.
Tonight we are going over to Chris and Carla's potluck Turkey Day. Minus the turkey, of course. Well, for me and Lisa anyway. I have to head out and pick up some ingredients for our contribution. Ciao.
17.10.05
I am so sorry.
Charles Baudelaire: The Flowers of Evil. You are
one of the most loved and hated poetic works.
Death and decadence are important themes for
you, but none should overlook your impressive
aesthetics, either. Deep down youre not evil at
all, you just like to play the tough guy on the
block.
Which literature classic are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
12.10.05
More later.
I haven't had a chance to post anything, so yeah, I'm busy. Thanksgiving was brief but fun, and I'm getting back a ton of assignments this week, the last story is almost finished (the first one was sent out the other day) and now I'm getting onto the rest of my homework. More later.
6.10.05
There are Men on My Roof
It's true, I'm not being cryptic. As I write this, there's at least two gentlemen climbing up and down ladders outside my office, and the occassional banging on the roof follows suit. It's currently raining, so that must suck having to work up there. I've been told that roofers prefer working in the rain so they can see where the leak is. Who knows.
But, uh, other than that it's kind of dull around here. Going to classes, going to work, writing whenever I can. I spent last night goofing off and crashing really early; now I feel as though I can actually Get Things Done. Yesterday I did that mid-term. It went well. There was one section that got me: identifying the similarities and differences between two phonemes. I have no idea if I actually answered any of them correctly. But that's always the case. Whenever I think I did badly, I end up doing great.
Now I have to edit. I should make a list of all the possible topics I want to blog about, then write them up like chapters.
But, uh, other than that it's kind of dull around here. Going to classes, going to work, writing whenever I can. I spent last night goofing off and crashing really early; now I feel as though I can actually Get Things Done. Yesterday I did that mid-term. It went well. There was one section that got me: identifying the similarities and differences between two phonemes. I have no idea if I actually answered any of them correctly. But that's always the case. Whenever I think I did badly, I end up doing great.
Now I have to edit. I should make a list of all the possible topics I want to blog about, then write them up like chapters.
2.10.05
A message from management.
Due to an increase of spam appearing in the comments, I've activated the word verification option for future commenters. It should only take three seconds to fill it out. Sorry for any inconvenience.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.
The end of the week.
Here I am. I still have a lot of work to do here, and all my deadlines are coming up fast. Wish me luck.
I wrote my English mid-term on Friday (crazy, yes? The mid-terms at UBC are in October. Do other universities have such early dates?) and I think I did okay. Hard to say at this point. I was the second person to finish, and I glanced at the first exam handed in. Someone analyzed the same poem as me, "The Silken Tent" by Robert Frost. However, this person's analysis focused on the "power of feminine strength" whereas I narrowed it down to a celebration of the self, and how faith relates to the self. You know how, if you read the paper just below yours when you hand things in, and you read their answers to reassure yourself? I did that. I wasn't reassured. My problem is that Frost uses the feminine pronoun once, in the first line and as the first word. Having such a small presence in the poem, the pronoun is relinquished of any prominence in the overall piece. Now I have something to think about.
After the mid-term I met up with the Poetry Society, a new club at the university. There was, like, two people there, but we went ahead with an ice-breaker. There was a brief overview of what the club will be doing - lectures on poets, poems or literary devices, then a workshop on members' poems who want feedback on their work, and possible involvement in poetry slams and open mike nights. Then there was a poetry trivia game, and I won by a whopping two points! The prize? Werther's Originals. Oh, yes. And, a strange coincidence. The other person at the ice-breaker was the same person who finished her exam first in my English class. Strange.
Last night Lisa and I attended a Sikh pre-wedding reception. Guggin, a classmate of Lisa's . . .okay, I don't know how to phrase this. There's just way too many possessives. Let's try it this way: Guggin: Lisa's classmate. Guggin's sister: the one getting married. We got a lift to Guggin's parent's house, courtesy of Lisa's folks. Yesterday was market day for their farm, so they were in town. When we got there we noticed a group hanging around in the front lawn, so we walked into house. We removed our shoes at the entrance, covered our heads with scarves provided in the foyer, and sat upstairs where the priest was reading from scripture. Apparently, the book is read in its entirety without stopping. It takes about two days. Of course, there's more than one priest at the house, and they read in shifts. Listeners are obliged to leave a small donation to the temple, so we gently placed our humble donations at the alter where the priest was reading. This was in the living room, which was as bright as day. A small, red canopy was strung over the priest, and the alter was draped in the same, bright red material. I was really curious to see the book, but I couldn't see it from where I was sitting. We then met up with Guggin and had some food downstairs. Food needs to be in the house twenty-four hours while the book is being read. So, we enjoyed some delicious dal and this cheese dessert (forgive me, I don't remember the name) that is very difficult to make. It was like a thin pudding, with small bits of cheese within it. The dessert was very creamy, and a sweetness reminiscent of condensed milk. Needless to say, with my love of condensed milk, this was one of the most exceptional desserts I've tasted in recent memory.
Lisa made crepes. I will eat them now.
I wrote my English mid-term on Friday (crazy, yes? The mid-terms at UBC are in October. Do other universities have such early dates?) and I think I did okay. Hard to say at this point. I was the second person to finish, and I glanced at the first exam handed in. Someone analyzed the same poem as me, "The Silken Tent" by Robert Frost. However, this person's analysis focused on the "power of feminine strength" whereas I narrowed it down to a celebration of the self, and how faith relates to the self. You know how, if you read the paper just below yours when you hand things in, and you read their answers to reassure yourself? I did that. I wasn't reassured. My problem is that Frost uses the feminine pronoun once, in the first line and as the first word. Having such a small presence in the poem, the pronoun is relinquished of any prominence in the overall piece. Now I have something to think about.
After the mid-term I met up with the Poetry Society, a new club at the university. There was, like, two people there, but we went ahead with an ice-breaker. There was a brief overview of what the club will be doing - lectures on poets, poems or literary devices, then a workshop on members' poems who want feedback on their work, and possible involvement in poetry slams and open mike nights. Then there was a poetry trivia game, and I won by a whopping two points! The prize? Werther's Originals. Oh, yes. And, a strange coincidence. The other person at the ice-breaker was the same person who finished her exam first in my English class. Strange.
Last night Lisa and I attended a Sikh pre-wedding reception. Guggin, a classmate of Lisa's . . .okay, I don't know how to phrase this. There's just way too many possessives. Let's try it this way: Guggin: Lisa's classmate. Guggin's sister: the one getting married. We got a lift to Guggin's parent's house, courtesy of Lisa's folks. Yesterday was market day for their farm, so they were in town. When we got there we noticed a group hanging around in the front lawn, so we walked into house. We removed our shoes at the entrance, covered our heads with scarves provided in the foyer, and sat upstairs where the priest was reading from scripture. Apparently, the book is read in its entirety without stopping. It takes about two days. Of course, there's more than one priest at the house, and they read in shifts. Listeners are obliged to leave a small donation to the temple, so we gently placed our humble donations at the alter where the priest was reading. This was in the living room, which was as bright as day. A small, red canopy was strung over the priest, and the alter was draped in the same, bright red material. I was really curious to see the book, but I couldn't see it from where I was sitting. We then met up with Guggin and had some food downstairs. Food needs to be in the house twenty-four hours while the book is being read. So, we enjoyed some delicious dal and this cheese dessert (forgive me, I don't remember the name) that is very difficult to make. It was like a thin pudding, with small bits of cheese within it. The dessert was very creamy, and a sweetness reminiscent of condensed milk. Needless to say, with my love of condensed milk, this was one of the most exceptional desserts I've tasted in recent memory.
Lisa made crepes. I will eat them now.
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