Paper and meat.

I've been home for a few hours, and I still cannot begin to describe my experiences when I first stepped onto campus as a student, rather than a reprobate who needs to be escorted off the premises. The sheer number of people numbs me - it's hard to walk in a crowd without wanting to see who's there or if you recognize someone. Just keep walking, I said to myself, and find that damn building where the class is. I'm also surprised by the amount of paper and meat this campus goes through in one week. There were more barbecues roasting dead animals than I've seen in awhile, and everywhere I went some overly tanned stick figure wearing a seashell necklace was shoving a pamphlet or coupons or (why not comics?) flyers under my nose. Note to university administration: leave the grumpy, slightly chubby guy with bad hair alone. Of course, that description isn't exactly a narrow one for a university campus.

I saw three people from the old college today. One is in my English class.

Oh yeah, the classes I'm registered in: English 225: Poetry (analyzing poetry with a technical and rigourous methodology), Linguistics 100: Memorize a Whole Bunch of Jargon and Read Difficult Texts, and Sociology 350: Social Theories. The first two classes are straightforward, but holy moley (moly?) my sociology class is rough. It is one of my majors, for sure, and I need this class for graduation, but the standards are high, dear friends. A ton of written work. Forty to eighty pages of readings a week, some of them being pretty dense. Seminars. Seminars, people. I love the class, it's true, but my knees gave out from under me when I read the syllabus.

One story. According to my schedule, my first class, linguistics, is at 10:30. When time came to get to class, I got hopelessly lost. The massive map near the student union building helped me find my way. I barreled into the classroom with four minutes to spare, sat down and listened to the prof. He had the periodic table of the elements on the overhead. Now, I was thinking, this is cool. The prof was comparing language to the periodic table. I wanted to see where he was going with this. Then he said, "when I looked up my name on rate your professor dot com, some of the complaints from disgruntled students were how I didn't write any notes for my chemistry 350 class last semester." I tried to slink out of the classroom unnoticed, but he totally saw me.

Thrilling? With the right chemical components, then yes.

Before I can do any work this afternoon, there are some chores in need of closure.

1. Clean the kitchen. I already swept the floors but, by God, the kitchen needs a serious intervention.
2. Get my student loan documents to the office post haste. I will be wealthy again soon.
3. See a hairdresser about some hair.
4. Take some shots of the bakery to accompany my food review. Email to editor(s).
5. Head out to UBC to do hand in my work study application, look for the reserve shelves in the library, get a day planner, a portable coffee cup (hopefully) and see if my books have finally arrived in the bookstore.

Then I get to finish the story, then the other one.

OMG, I start school tomorrow. Uni-freakin'-versity. I think if I ingest a pound of opium, followed by a tall glass of rubbing alcohol, I'll do just fine.

Not much to report today, the sternographer said as she stood up for another cup of coffee.

Not much to report today. I spent the day nursing a hang-over (last night we started drinking at the house, then Julia and Jason's place, then the Fountainhead and then Celebrities; the pitcher at the Fountainhead was a gallon's worth of beer) and I was seeking food and coffee for the rest the afternoon. I wanted to attend the Victory Square block Party (local bands play for free!) but the idea of noise and crowds was nauseating. We ended up having coffee and eggs with Jess. It was nice. The weather was just perfect - not too hot but still sunny. I decided I want to travel to Chile, Jamacia and Vietnam.

There was an unsuccessful culinary experiment this evening: I tried making a saffron-cream sauce for pasta, but the saffron totally overwhelmed the flavour. The dish was too flowery, with a slight, bitter aroma. The recipe called for a quarter of a teaspoon, but I think an eighth would be enough. However, the tomato and New Zealand spinach salad totally saved the day, due to the spicy peanut dressing I whipped up. I'll rinse the pasta and throw in some chili paste to cover up the taste, then chased back with a beer.

More editing tomorrow, plus a quick write-up of Slaughterhouse-Five. Oh, and I need more links!

Saturday

The weather, as Kevin pointed out this afternoon, is turning. I get this slight electric tingle when autumn approaches. I get to wear my favourite clothes in my favourite colours (black, brown and gray) that are in layers! Layers! And I can wrap my hideous, pudgy neck in a scarf.

More to come later.

Linksy

I've just added a list of permalinks, and if anyone wants to be included (or excluded) just comment here. More links to come.

Storms and picture-books.

Some interesting discussions (or, sometimes, what resembles a discussion on the interweb) that have caught my attention this morning.

First, a decent essay by Dirk Deppey on the emergence of shoujo in the American/Canadian comics market. The essay is well-timed, particularly to my interest in manga as a whole, because I wrote an article on women and manga from an "outsider's" perspective (someone who is new to the literary and graphic conventions of manga) a scant few months ago. Deppey's thesis was countered by Patrick Daniel O'Neill, who states that manga and comics are two distinct mediums, like Japanese kabuki and Euro-American theatre. Youse can read it here, with commentary. His argument was the equivalent of thrusting a pointed stick into a wasps' nest, as seen here. Comments? Questions?

Also, I stumbled upon a small but invigorating thread on Marlo's blog - she dated a friend for awhile, and now I read her blog on occasion. In light of the Katrina disaster, she brings up issues of racism and classism inherent in disaster planning, and the larger of issue of misappropriating federal taxes.

Image courtesy of The Beat.

Today is Edit Day.

That's right. My afternoon will be spent editing a number of projects. I slept in this morning, and as I tap this keyboard the second to last crepe will be cooked. That's the joy of owning a laptop: I can cook and write in the same room. Two short stories (for the journal), notes for another story I finished and the play (no kidding) are on today's menu. No articles until next week.

I had a very odd dream, where I was Spider-Man and some villains formed a team to finally kill me. They knew my secret identity. I spent the dream hiding in different houses, which were all renovated heritage homes, in a neighborhood that reminded me of Toronto in autumn, or Fernwood in Victoria, only more crowded-looking and worn out. My house was in the neighbourhood, and I had to hide behind fences across the street or else they would've seen me. I watched a pregnant Mary-Jane walk home with a friend. I ended up looking for new clothes in a department store and the clerks there tried to get the customers to buy stock options. I kept watching the sky.

Thanks.

I would like to personally thank Financial Aid at the University of British Columbia for faxing our declaration forms directly to the Ministry of Whoever Deals With Student Loans.

The word I was looking for was "declaration" rather than "confirmation."

If being a yuppie is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

So. Today was made up of long stretches of commuting, then punctuated by brief moments of excitement. First, we did end up going to American Apparel. I know exactly what you're thinking: what's that dude doing in that shop? Well, I'm sick of buying clothes that age too quickly or tear too easily once I get then out of the shop. Most stuff from department stores look like crap; the colour is a little off or there's a some crap logo blazoned across the chest. Ew. Then, the clothes at AA (not Alcoholics Anonymous, the selection there sucks) are "reasonably" priced (the black hoodie I picked up was a tad too much) and lo and behold, they're not made in sweatshops!

We made our way to Granville Island so I could drop off the media tickets form for Fringe Fest. We wandered into this office where everyone was buzzing around and ignoring us. I caught the eye of one woman, who turned out to be really awesome, took my name and the form. It's a bizarre experience stepping into a scene like that - you feel like a piece of furniture that is in everyone's way.

We picked up some food from Friends of Cheese (Brie and broccoli soup, a wedge of Stilton and some organic French toastie things) and then some browsing on Fourth Avenue. Nothing good there. After that, we made it to UBC. I had to give them workstudy form and verification form for my scholarship. We also sent Financial Aid after the Ministry for screwing up our confirmation forms.

Okay, I just used the word "form" three freakin' times there. The problem of living in a post-industrial, capitalist society? It makes your language sound like a letter from a civil servant drone.

It was raining off and on all day, which was an awesome break from the heat. So, yeah. Lisa and I finished the day at this medical center, where Lisa got an X-Ray (I repeatedly joked she might accidentally get super-powers from being exposed to those mysterious rays. Any word beginning with the letter X is kind of mysterious) and I crossed the street from the center and visited my doctor. Nothing serious.

We got home a few hours ago. I took a bath, read stuff from the internets, ate cheese and sipped soup, and now I'm ready for bed.

And - a huge congratulations to Chris and Carla! Chris proposed to Carla over the weekend, and they expect to be married this coming spring! wOOt!

Actual number of times the word "form" appears here: Five. No, wait. Six.

My God, this post is so boring.

Clothes report: Picked up two pairs of jeans, plus some ideas for future wardrobes. We will be heading out to American Apparel tomorrow for thin, cotton sweatshirts. I really need a blazer. Why the hell are they so expensive? I saw a couple in the mall, and they looked sharp. I want to look presentable when I go out in public. I'm sick of the "rough edges" applied to men's clothing. The ill-fitting jeans, the splashes of sickly pastel colours; I want to see a consistent palette that compliments each component. I usually don't have time, or funds, to keep up with style hounds. I'm also looking for socks, a scarf and maybe a hat.

Had lunch at Finches (Finch's?) with Jess. The decor was very relaxed and antique-y, which reminded me of having lunch at a friend's place. The Brie and walnut salad (I shared) had a friendly composition, but a little too much vinaigrette. The espresso was thick and rich. For me, the measure of a good espresso is whether or not I need a chaser. If I have to follow each sip of espresso with water, either mineral or plain, then what we're looking at is a good espresso. Now quit looking at it.

Cast of Characters.

We are about to step out for lunch and clothes shopping (downtown!) so just a brief note. Abbreviations are a thing of the past. The current cast is as follows:

L is Lisa: My sweetie.
C is Chris: Good friend and fellow writer.
C is Carla: Chris' charming girlfriend, has a wicked sense of humour.
A is Andrew: Lisa's brother and current housemate.
K is Kevin: Good friend, see post entitled >More Flesh For the Nest<.
T is Tania: Kevin's girlfriend and talented artist, I've known Tania for a long time.
W is Will: Good friend, reigning Bicycle King.
I is Iain: Friend and Arts Editor for the Other Press.
R is Ryan: Old friend and fellow literature lover.
J is Julia: A good friend of Lisa's, does non-profit work.
Ja is Jason: Julia's boyfriend, art, literature and cooking aficionado.
Je is Jess: Another good friend of Lisa's, also does non-profit work.

There are definetly more names to add to this cast, but I think these characters have appeared frequently in my past posts.

Breakfast of Scallions.

Get up early. Roll out of bed and take a shower. Get dressed, and begin to panic when wallet cannot be found. Remember that half of night was slept while still in clothes, so take cover off and shake vigourously. Wallet flops to the floor. Head out to store and buy orange juice, eggs, flax waffles and veggie Bavarian sausages. Go home and brew a pot of coffee (boil water in ibrik and dump freshly ground beans in water, steep for five to ten minutes) then fry up sausages. Dice two fat cloves of garlic, then when sausages are cooked, slip them into the oven and fry up three eggs. Toss in diced garlic. Put two waffles in toaster. Arrange everything on plate and enjoy. Serve with juice and java.

Damn. Fine. Breakfast. Almost as good as Bon's, and healthier.

I had the privilege of hanging out with the Terminal City crew last night for their usual get-together. We met at The Whip, and somehow, between ten people, we spent three hundred dollars on food and booze. Needless to say, after reading my posts from last night I can tell I was definitely dancing with Bacchus. I met some super friendly people, and had great conversations on writing ("the comma should be used sparingly!"), writers (Shakespeare and King, strange but true) and, well, general stuff.

Thinking of going to Bard on the Beach today, but it looks like it's not happening.

And.

Psychology is the 21st century's most powerful weapon.

Hey.

The internet is the loneliest place in the world.

Another good day.

There is something to be said about sitting in my shorts and t-shirt, wrapped in my favourite housecoat (or bathrobe or nightgown or whatever), drinking coffee and nibbling on a pineapple custard bun, and writing in my office as Edith Piaf croons in the background.

I'm thinking about Paris a lot lately. It's like those times when you meet someone for the first time. You find that someone to be charming and gorgeous (in a strange, Old World kind of way) but you're reluctant to agree on how wonderful this someone is, which is what everyone says. Then, months later, and after much deliberation, you discover you love this someone. You just didn't know it at the time. That's what happens when you're in the moment: it's really hard to see what's really going on. I miss sitting in a cafe, just sitting and drinking coffee and reading or writing. No one bothered me, no one asked me to leave or tell me I've been there too long. I could stay for as long as I like, with a full bar at my disposal. It was bliss. Things I would do differently? Go in the autumn or early - very early - spring. Bring a long, handsome scarf, or buy one while I'm Paris. Get some running shoes. A sport coat. And my laptop. Yeah, weird, huh? Why would I lug this beast around? Well, the keyboards in France are built on Bizarro World, and it's a hassle trying to find an internet cafe. There are quite a few in Paris, but some have crazy hours or they're full.

Even though I'm kind of broke now, I'd rather be poor in Paris than just getting by in Vancouver. Groan.

I have to finish an article and my resume today. I'm doing a food review, and I love writing them. I mean, c'mon, I love to freakin' eat. After reading "Fat" by Raymond Craver I was salivating, even though the food mentioned in the story wasn't exactly paramount. When I finish that I'll be looking up books I want to read online. I feel as though I'm missing out on something, is there anything going on this weekend? Need to find out. Hopefully Chris comes over, having company breaths life into a house.

Cheers!

Okay, so my article is in this week's paper. My bad. I was totally worried I let the folks at Terminal City down. Today is a good day.

I have been thinking about traveling.

The problem of having time off is trying to get things done. Yeah, sure, I can edit finished stories or continue writing current projects, but mostly I just want to sleep and forget I have responsibilities. As far as I'm concerned, holidays are monotonous. I'm updating my resume, sending out documents for scholarships, cleaning out my hard drive (and thinking about upgrading my laptop's memory) and organizing my life for the next six or so months. L and I have a tentative plan to go back east for Christmas, with a possible side trip to New York. That would be awesome; I've never been there, and I wrote up a list of all the sights I want to check out.

Lately, I've been wanting to remove myself from Vancouver. I don't know if it's permanent, but I really want to see more of the world. Spending ten days in Paris, regardless of how amazing it was, just wasn't enough for me. I want to see more of Europe, and possibly elsewhere. I was thinking Vietnam. Don't ask me why, I just want to visit Vietnam. Vancouver gets me down sometimes. The weather is alright, but sometimes the people give me a heartache. Either they are loud or boorish, or two-faced and conniving. I know people are generally the same everywhere else, and I'll meet people with the exact qualities I despise, but I just want something to be different. Maybe I want to be different. Sometimes I need to change too, and when I feel this way it's because I'm resenting myself for whatever reason. Well, my article wasn't picked this week, which wasn't entirely a big deal, but it kinda sucks. Oh well. I do have a food review coming up, albeit a short one, and possibly some show reviews from the Fringe Festival. Ha! It's not like this hasn't happened before. I'll solicit the article elsewhere.

Quick.

What to do, what to do. I finished the article, and there's that slight twitch in my lower back again, telling me to be worried. I always loved that little gap of uncertainty. Did I do a good job? Is the piece effective? What could have I done differently? It's like I'm wrapping up a sandwich, one that I made myself, and giving it away for someone's lunch. I'm hoping that the person unwrapping the sandwich and taking the first bite will like it. Anyhoo, I'm doing a quick food review, due on Friday, plus other little projects for me.

One of my goals this year, and next year, is to add more layers of complexity to my work. Fine-tuning the craft, so to speak. A good story is well-crafted story, with all the parts interlocking and supporting each other, and dropping small details that flush out a scene and adding another layer of symbolism to the piece.

Need to check out BoingBoing more often.

Tired brain cant right

Today was interesting. I helped L at the market again, and to do that I had to get up early, like around 6:30 or so. However, I just couldn't get to sleep. I kept rolling around like a beached whale. So, I had to work the market with little sleep. The food was wonderful, though. Bries again, accompanied by the most incedible bread. It was made like a French loaf; an excellent, chewy crust and a spongy interior. The bread went really well with the cheese. I also picked up peaches that literally melted into a river of juice when I bit into them. And coffee. I got home at around 1:30 and slept for five hours. Now I'm awake and I'm ready to write. Ugh.

I think my sleep problems stem from the stress relating to my article. I'm a little behind, and I have to get some photos to accompany the article. I'm doing a piece on public art and graffiti, and it's better to have me find the graphs rather than getting someone else to hunt them down. My brain still thinks it's yesterday, like around 10:00 PM.

Who needs money? Me.

Today is new comic day. However, I probably won't be able to pick anything up, on account of being broke. I will get to go outside and enjoy the chilly, cloudy day today. I have to venture out to the "old" school, I think for the final time, and pick up my term papers. If I find I have any dough I'll probably be downtown.

The play is going, um, "well." I looked over it and did some minor revisions, but I spotted some clumsy, not-so-funny parts that need work. I wanted to write a darker comedy, but this thing is really light and sweet. L convinced me to keep the tone, but I will tighten up some scenes. If I get any good work today, then I will workshop tomorrow night. Otherwise, I have another week to finish the fourth draft. Yes, the fourth draft.

Overall, my days are slipping by pretty fast. I had lunch at Cassis yesterday, the new French restaurant on Pender Street. I ordered the thin crust pizza with wild mushrooms, truffle and goat cheese. The dish was very toothsome, with rich, earthy flavours rounded off by the creamy goat cheese. The crust was terrific, very balanced flavour-wise and texture-wise. We ordered the house wine, a French red (I don't remember the name, I should have written it down). The wine had a thick body and a nice, clean finish, but the nose was rather flat. I tried making the panna cotta, but the milk and cream didn't react to the agar, so it ended up being more of a cream pudding. The flavour was very sweet, and I think this could follow a heavy meal.

I'm enjoying my books. The problem with reading while being a full-time student (this only applies to me) is the amount of material I need to cover as I try to manage my recreational reading. Comics somewhat fulfill my craving, but I do need text. When I'm in school I have trouble finding the time to read what I want. Now that the semester is over, it's even harder to pick up a book, because I kinda need a break. Tonight, I'm going to lock myself away with books, comics (maybe) and laptop in my room and soak up some words.

I should point out that A took the shots of the market stall.