Halloween!

Someone put out a bowl of candy here at work. May God have mercy on us all.

So, tonight, I will be showing two horror films in preparation for next year's Halloween extravaganza. If I can't go to the film festival then I'll bring the film festival to me. Tonight I'll be showing Hell House and Tale of Two Sisters. If people can swing by then by all means, come and make yourself at home.

Watch this. I loves it.

The other day I introduced myself to a classmate who's into illustrating. I had a project lined up by it's currently on hiatus - and who knows, projects tend to get rejuvenated. Anyway, the illustrator is interested in looking at some scripts I've been working on. I don't expect instant success, but the more networking I do the greater chance I have at getting a project off the ground.

Go see Trailer Park Boys.

Studying as it rains outside.

I'm still trying to master brewing a decent espresso. Ever since I received my beloved stovetop espresso pot, I've been experimenting with different water to coffee ratios to find the perfect balance. Most of the time I succeed, but I would love to be able to make a superb espresso blindfolded.

I want recipe ideas for Christmas. Give them to me now. Here's one.

I have another French quiz tomorrow, which I'm currently studying at the moment. How will I do? J n'ai sais pas. Je suis assez fatigué ce le soir, et je ne veux pas étudier pour mon examen demain.

The grades are just pouring in now.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a paper on Horace's dissertation (perhaps not the correct word) on the poet, and although I worked hard on it, I was worried I was missing some crucial argument. I got the paper back yesterday. An A+!

I did get a B+ on my Freud mid-term, and today I did five minute presentation, psychoanalyzing the protagonist in Neil Gaiman's Coraline. I was so nervous, I had trouble articulating my argument. I kept stammering and forgetting my lines. Ugh. I only hope my thesis came across somewhat clearly.

Slovoj Zizec is coming to Vancouver on November 1st! I will definitely be there. There should be an accent circonflexe above the two z's in his name. Stupid monolingual computer.

Linky linky loo. . .

Before I hit the books, here's some intrawubb signals I've intercepted:

I'm obsessed with invisibility. I don't know why. Probably a result of consuming far too much science fiction and comic books in my greener days. Now, my dream is being realized.

I <3 libraries. Hold your breath before clicking on the link.

Somewhere on planet Earth, a group of scientists will create a stable black hole. I'm, uh, worried.

Ode to Autumn

Last week, as I was walking to work after my last class, I was struck with a sublime moment. A thick fog had settled at the tops of the evergreen trees that surround the campus, and the afternoon light made the trees appear lush and vibrant. A slight breeze tossed the dry leaves across the street, mixing the reds and yellows and oranges. The cool air, the stillness - I found myself walking in perfect weather. At the moment, I wasn't worried about school, or money, or life. I was immersed in the present.

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats

The police station.

Today I went to the police station to get a criminal record check. Apparently, to receive a student visa for Slovenia, applicants need to exhibit no signs of criminality. Being my first time in that particular building, I was amazed at how calm and orderly the building is inside. I expected constantly ringing phones, haggard detectives getting statements from prostitutes and some seven-foot-tall man being carted off in cuffs, struggling with the attending officers.

I watch too many movies. There were three front desks, managed by friendly staff, and the occasional cop wandering around. I wanted cacophony, not this civilized pap.

Well, nonetheless, it was worth the $55. Our only concern is money at this point. Although we are currently doing okay financially, we do need to prove we have enough money in the coffers while we study there. That might be a problem. Mark this on your calendars: we are booking a flight for January 10th. So. Excited.

Yawn

I submitted four poems, started an essay due on Monday, and tomorrow afternoon I will continue writing and studying. I'm also writing an article on The Parade of Lost Souls for the student paper.

Once I'm in school my blinders are definitely on. I only focus at the task at hand, and everything else ends up on the periphery. Now, I really need to call friends I've been neglecting.

I was yawning all through my last class and I could barely keep my eyes open as I was reading Freud on the bus. When I need to take time off, I do so with vigor. Like tonight. I'll be keeping a safe distance from my homework.

Over the weekend Lisa and I met Robin and Grace's new baby, Felix. He is small and cute and quiet. Well, somewhat quiet.

I'm falling asleep now.

YES

French Post-Structuralist Showdown

Taking a quick study break. I've been reading so much lately I'm having trouble articulating my thoughts at the moment. Moving from Freud to Longinus to Gaiman then to a French textbook is like listening to four different musical genres at once and trying to distinguish one song from the other.

The other day I was writing an entry on how school has become really difficult (seeing as how I'm in upper-level courses) and I even considered dropping out. Sure, I'm behind on my readings - who isn't? On Monday everything changed. A woman in one of my lit classes quoted Bourdieu, and completely over-simplified his theory. She reduced his argument to "art appreciation is only for the bourgeois." God damn. No, everyone appreciates art. Bourdieu was pointing out that habitus is marked by what kind of art one consumed and how one discusses art. That's like saying only the bourgeois drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or read magazines or play sports.

I despise this half-assed sociology that depicts the poor as pathetic, ignorant waifs wailing in the gutters for a penny. Poor folks look at art and talk about it. They engage with the rest of society and have voices and ideas.

So, yeah, I'm staying in school. I got the love back.

I need to try quitting smoking again. I have a slight cough and my esophagus feels numb. Also, playing football becomes a challenge, too. But you know what? What really bothers me? When non-smokers list off the reasons why I shouldn't smoke. They always sound so damn condescending.

Yes, I know - smoking causes cancer. I saw the fucking movies in high school too. Thanks anyway.

The thing is, addiction overrides logic.

On a more joyful note, I'll visiting my folks this Thanksgiving weekend.

This really floored me. How did this get broadcasted?

Errata

Apparently, I am not leaving for Slovenia in less than months, but rather in little over three months. Plenty of time to see individuals returning from faraway and exotic lands.

Get out of my mouth.

I'm not really a mouthwash person.

Last week I went to the dentist. The last time I sat in The Chair was roughly ten years ago. There is nothing pleasant about going to the dentist. Sure, their services are in desperate need, but so are morticians.

My visit started off with delightful news: I found out I need oral surgery to remove my wisdom teeth. The dentist won't touch one of the little bastards who has decided to grow away from the rest of my teeth, so that its roots overlap with those who have been living comfortably in my mouth for over twenty years. The newbies always ruin everything.

Anyway, I was subjected to a painful cleaning (my gums are sensitive at the moment) which involved being suspended upside down while the hygienist blasts the yellow veneer from my teeth with hot water. I remember accidentally stabbing my gums with a toothpick - getting a "cleaning" is a close approximation. I was told that I needed another cleaning this week. Wonderful.

Now I have to use mouthwash. I hate mouthwash. That shit burns.

I am bitchy today.

Saddle up, everyone. Tonight, we're taking our town back.

I'm only an hour or so away from catching a bus to the ferry that will whisk me away to Victoria. Although the trip over as a deep significance for me, traveling to The Rock always wears me out. The ferry food is awful and over-priced, and for some reason the most hideous, obnoxious members of our species have the audacity to double my torment by dragging their screaming offspring onboard. The horror.

The view is nice, though. I've almost always managed to get some writing done on the boat.

Quick school report: my two theory courses are incredible. Contemporary theory is plain enough to follow because the prof slips in pop culture references, but the classical theory class, however much I'm enjoying it, can be challenging to follow. The prof insists on teaching in a untraditional, nonlinear way, which can make a humble undergrad's head deflate very quickly. I'm not complaining, however. She really knows her stuff and encourages debate and dialogue, and I love how she relates classical theory to post-colonial critical discourse.

Twentieth century lit is fairly straightforward (we read Freud then apply his theories to literature - yes, it's not exactly rigorous) and my nineteenth century lit class is only furthering cementing my love for American literature, and I'm now really motivated to pursue my doctoral in an American university.

Did I mention I'm back to tutoring? I love it. I've only worked with a couple of students but my blood warms at the very thought of conducting essay workshops and discussing rhetorical styles with students.

I'll be in Slovenia in less than three months! Next week I will be sending my passport application to the appropriate authorities, including a student visa, and making other arrangements for our arrival. Lisa and I are terrified and excited at the same time. We still have to figure out what to do with our lovely cat. And all our stuff. And whether or not we'll be taking the Trans-Siberian Railway to China. And making quick trips back to Paris. . .

Expect another Dr. McGillicuddy story. Heh.

Where to find me.

Where have y'all been hanging out on the intrawubbs? You'll find me loitering here:

Urban Dead

I play a zombie. I'm currently in Stanbury Village with a horde of nearly a hundred zombies outside Nichols Mall. We patiently wait to slaughter helpless human survivors.

BoingBoing

For all my obscure news.

The Beat

For all my comic news. Both popular and underground comics get the same treatment, which makes for a refreshingly balanced read. Most websites and magazines either focus only on indies and slam popular titles or vice-versa.

The Show With Ze Frank

Genuinely funny and entertaining, Ze has capitalized on the internet's social potential to make a series of rather personal videos on politics, culture and random dirty jokes. Also, he films parts of New York and I love New York.

YouTube

I'm only there to watch episodes of Justice League and Robot Chicken. I am a nerd. Stop snickering.

There are more but I'm too lazy at the moment to type them all out. I've been checking out artist's blogs, but I need to return to literary-minded sites. Suggestions?

Bring it to the UEFA!

BORED NOW

Well, you know, not much going on at the moment.

School is fun, although I have to do some serious catching up over the weekend. I return to work on Monday, reprising my role as English tutor for desperate undergrads.

I have lame music in my iTunes folder.

I have a cold.

The cat is in desperate need of a brushing. He hates being brushed, hence the dilemma.

Oh, and I'm writing. Heh. Anyone ever forget projects?

School!

The first day of school! I was so accustomed to a relatively empty campus all summer, I almost fell over backwards when I tried to fight the hordes of students to reach the bookstore or my classroom or the bathroom.

My classes this term: English 408: History of Criticism and Theory; English 409: Modern Critical Theories; English 464: Twentieth Century Studies; English 364: Nineteenth Century Studies and French 101.

I really want autumn to arrive and shove summer into the gutter. Enough is enough.

I don't remember ordering this headache.

Last day of work. I'm fairly pleased with the progress I made in the last week, compiling everything I've written and making sure the punctuation marks are right where I left them. Unfortunately, the server is still down, so none of my work can be uploaded until the bugs are swept out. The newsletter is delayed, too. At least 95% of the copy is finished and ready for layout. I might accept another contract to finish this project, but with all that's going on with me I can't really make a decision right now.

Tonight I'm heading out to Victoria to visit my dad and the rest of the family. I'm leaving all computer-related technology at my house - all writing will be done old school.

The Casebook Of Dr. McGillicuddy, Scientist-Explorer and Moral Hygienist

When I saw these lovely antique weapons capable of unspeakable destruction, almost immediately the urge to scribble some words down was irresistible.

How The Good Doctor Tamed The Unruly Heavens

"Bloody hell."
Dr. McGillicuddy watched the skies as the clouds blackened and boiled above the city. He took a sip from an iron flask and tucked it inside his coat pocket. Autumn's fleeting breaths vanished as winter tumbled into the city, covering the streets with a thin coat of frost and brittle leaves. The doctor stood on a street corner. The gaslights along the empty street rattled from the groans emanating from beyond the clouds. Thick sooty flakes gently fell to the ground, peppering the doctor's snowy hair.
"I should have moved to the colonies," he said to himself, "but I despise dysentery. If a man must die, then he should be atomized or consumed by a mammal three times his size. Anything else is a dreadful waste of time."
A young man in a white lab coat smeared with grease ran up behind the doctor. He carried a small bundle wrapped in burlap.
Dr. McGillicuddy heard the footsteps behind him. He remembered the War, and the screams and the three-headed birds clutching pieces of men in their pointed beaks.
"Did you bring the phallus?"
The young man looked at the burlap in his hands.
"Excuse me, doctor?"
"Pardon me, Collins. I was elsewhere. What's that you have there?"
"The, um, device, doctor."
"Ah, yes. Was it where I told you?"
"Not exactly, doctor."
"Come now, Collins. We are both men here. Enough with the formalities. If must address me, 'sir' would be adequate. My last man referred to me as 'Grand Oscillator.' Charming fellow. He went mad shortly after an expedition to Greenland."
"That's a right lovely story, sir, but the sky - "
"Was it in the depository?"
"No, sir. I found it in the pantry. Under the lard."
"Heavens!"
"Indeed. Would you like me to calibrate it, sir? If I'm not mistaken, the sky will worsen and cause unfortunate side-effects."
"Calibration is for wet nurses."
Dr. McGillicuddy's eyes returned to the sky, which grew darker as an undulating howl erupted from above.
"I wasn't aware exposing those runes to galvanized hard water would have such dramatic results," said the good doctor.
"Those runes we found in that beast's belly?"
"They have names, you know."
"I refuse to think of them as Abominable Snowmen. We were mistaken. Hodgson caught sight of an orang-utan while sipping melted yak butter in Nepal. Nothing more."
Dr. McGillicuddy sighed. He held out his hand. Collins rolled his eyes and slapped the bundle into the doctor's palm.
"I sought after a weapon that could sour a woman's virtue," said Dr. McGillicuddy, "instead, I built a Disrupting Wave Emitter. Alas, I remain unlucky in love."
The doctor removed the burlap. The Emitter was heavy in his hands. The chrome device was sleek and egg-shaped, ending in a point. A vial, half-filled with blue viscous fluid, jutted out of the back.
"Do you know where to aim, sir?"
"Up, presumably."
"Very good, sir."
Pointing the weapon at the billowing clouds, Dr. McGillicuddy squinted one eye and pulled the trigger. A blue light fired out of the pointed apparatus and pierced the atmosphere. A horrible roar echoed across the city.
Suddenly, a bobby appeared from around the corner and stood before the two men. He twirled his club around a pudgy finger.
"Wot's this then, lads?"
"Good afternoon, officer."
"Fancy lights there. Mind giving an explanation as to why you're shooting the heaven above our Queen's Royal Head?"
"Of course. But, if you may, could you stand one metre behind you?"
"Certainly. Now - "
A grey-green tentacle bolted from out of the clouds. Its surface was dripping with thick, translucent mucus that reeked of oil and dead flowers. The appendage coiled around the bobby and hauled the hapless constable up into the sky. His round figure quickly disappeared.
The roaring ceased. A minute passed and the clouds dispersed, revealing a deep blue sky.
"Well," said Collins.
The doctor patted the Emitter. "I needed to get its attention. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in desperate need of another pair of trousers."
Collins glanced at the doctor's damp anterior and then checked his pocket watch.
"Right on schedule, sir. Like clockwork, really."
"Precisely."
The doctor jammed the Emitter into his trousers and strutted off. Collins followed. An elderly woman wearing a matted, greasy shawl approached Dr. McGillicuddy and held out her hands, asking for a penny. The good doctor smiled and promptly shoved the woman into the street.

Copyright, The Stars Have Eyes. Steal it and die.