I'm over here.

Just in case you're just tuning in, I've been hanging out around here.

Tired of being tired.

I've been depressed the last few days. It comes in waves, sometimes lasting for hours then fading away. One of my childhood fears have crept back into my consciousness and has invaded all my waking thoughts, making my life difficult.

When I was, say, ten years old, my family at the time were not exactly rich or even middle class. We didn't own most of the household appliances some people take for granted, like a VCR (this was the eighties), microwave - that sort of thing. So, when it came time to pick a summer camp for me, my parents chose a Christian camp. Either it was cheap, or free, I don't know. I don't really remember wanting to go to summer camp in the first place.

Anyway, this camp made the kids go to a church service on Sunday. I wasn't impressed. I daydreamed my way through most of the service (I was, and am, a diehard dreamer) until the end, when some of the older kids reenacted the Rapture. Yes, that's right, they put on a little play about the end of the world.

I knew I wasn't a Christian. My parents didn't go to any church and we never talked about religion at home. I didn't know I wasn't baptized until a few years ago. So, yeah, religion never played a major role in my life. But when I heard about the end of the world, and the fact that non-Christians burned in hell (the kids in the play emphasized that point) when the time finally comes, I became terrified. That night, in my bunk bed, I cried thinking that my family and I will suffer. One of the camp counsellors heard me and took me aside. When I told him I was scared of hell because I wasn't a Christian, he had me recite a prayer to induct me into the fold. I was relived after that, knowing that I was safe from eternal punishment.

Shoot ahead twenty-odd years and now I'm in Slovenia. I don't know where these thoughts are coming from, but they have bubbled to the surface. I've been obsessing over "Doomsday events," or scenarios where our species, and possibly our planet, will be wiped out of existence. I'm not so worried about human-made disasters, but rather ones of the natural variety. Rogue asteroids and gamma ray bursts don't present that large of a threat, considering that contemporary science does view them as real and potential dangers, but not imminent. Black holes are a possibility, but whether or not they are mobile is still debatable and I don't think it's probable one would open up in our solar system anytime soon. There are other events as well, but I don't want to describe them here. I need a break.

I see everyone I know disintegrate in a flash of light, their flesh blasted off their frames. They don't even have time to scream. This is what is racing in my head as I lay in bed, trying to sleep.

I'm only writing an abridged version here. I'm worried that these thoughts will persist and eventually take over my life. I'm worried that I will spend the rest of days huddled in a bunker, watching the skies. At the same time, I find myself counting every moment as my last one. I'll be enjoying my day, then suddenly I find myself looking up at the sky, dreading the coming cataclysm.

Why am I writing this? I don't know. This a diary, of sorts, and these are the thoughts that are overwhelming me. Maybe this is preliminary therapy, approaching my conscious self as an objectified moment and seeing it as truthfully as possible. I know I'm still facing my own mortality. Since my father died, I've been wrestling with this. Our parents act as "safety nets," shielding us from the grim reality that is mortality. When one (or both) of these people are gone, we must face death straight on. We must stand on our own feet. Being in a foreign country, I feel vulnerable. I'm not afraid of dying, but I want to die after living a full life, not because of some cosmic event.

I hate this.

Watching football in Ljubljana.

We watched the Chelsea - Tottenham match this afternoon in an English pub cleverly named "English Pub." We sadly missed the first half and when we arrived Tottenham was leading with three points, Chelsea trailing behind with one meager point. We sat down, ordered drinks and before we could settle in we noticed some lads behind us. They were Tottenham fans. One young man was quite vocal, cursing the Blues and what-not. All the power to him - being a supporter means shouting down your opponents.

However, we felt a little stupid being the only Chelsea supporters. Luckily there were only a few of us watching.

Then Chelsea scores. Then again shortly after, tying the game.

I really wanted to say something to our Tottenham friends, but I kept my mouth shut. The Spurs did play an excellent game after all.

Subliminal Video Gambling Machines (from Ontario) and other news.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Awesome.

Anyway, I recently upgraded to the Beta, and now my old link list disappeared. In time, I'll have it back, angrier as ever.

Hacking public transit infrastructures.

A link to HeHe Association's designs for personal transportation using abdanoned railways.

A message from management.

I'll be mostly updating the travel blog, at least once a week, so consider this blog defunct until I return. I may occasionally post something here.

Take care, now.

To see for oneself.

Yesterday was a whirlwind, yes it was. We woke up relatively early to continue arranging our finances overseas: our respective student loans require some bureaucratic shuffling to get them cashed, like having them sent to Slovenia then back to Canada. Lisa's parents have kindly taken power of attorney over our administrative documents so they can deposit them into our accounts.

I should take a moment here to thank our wonderful friends and family for helping us move, driving us around, providing company and support and all the other favours that have made this whole process easier. You know who you are! You are a nice and wonderful!

Later, we met with Chris for a coffee and a chat at Trees (which, by the way, has an incredible apple pie) and then we met Kevin and Tania for dinner at their place and then a late-night excursion to Science World for the Body Worlds exhibit.

What can I say about this exhibit? Well, I was thinking about the secularization of the body. For centuries, the body was considered sacred (and, of course, the male body was privileged), since the body was considered the center of experience (indeed, it is) and hence the center of the universe. Furthermore, human dissection was limited or outright banned until the Catholic church deemed it acceptable in the 17th century. Body Worlds posits that the body is malleable, made of common components found in other living beings. By lifting muscle groups to expose organs or cutting away at the cranium to display sliced brain tissue, the exhibit is presenting the body as a biological wonder that is understood and thus controllable.

Although other cultures practiced body modification for centuries, "Western" culture is only now catching up. Subdermal implants and plastic surgery are here (for extreme examples see ModBlog, but be careful: definitely NSFW) and new methods are approaching fast. Surgical techniques enable doctors to perform radical facial reconstructions or attach severed limbs. The body is up for grabs.

Kevin problematized my idea. By removing the sacred from the body, the danger lies in how the body is intellectually conceived. The body can be abused by feeding it unhealthy food or not exercising it because there is no real investment, nothing to protect. Post-modernism counters metanarratives; if the body was confined by narratives defining its sacredness, then is the secularization of the body a post-modern endeavour?

Autopsy is derived from the Greek words "auto" and "opsis," meaning "to see for oneself." We really did see for ourselves.

Okay, I am packed. We only have a few small details to finish up. Our flight is eight hours away. Here we go.

OH FUCK YEAH

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

Belated 2006 summary.

I've had wonky internet access for awhile, so now that I have a decent connection it's time for some catch-up.

I spent New Year's Eve with Chris and Carla (Lisa went to the wedding reception) and we watched cartoons, movies and ate snacks courtesy of Carla. I had a lovely time.

We got back from Victoria last night. Nothing too big, we just hung out and exchanged presents. My mom rented a half-hour trip on a horse carriage for us through James Bay, Victoria's oldest neighbourhood. We thought it was fabulous. The driver told us about some of the architectural curiosities in the area, and the weather was perfect - a little breeze and a little sun. Hearing the rhythmic clip-clopping of the horse's hooves as we cruised through the serene streets was a great way to say good-bye to the Island for six months.

I just finished writing a make-up exam. I did okay.

Carla asked me what my highlights were for 2006. I initially said "nothing," then made a few remarks afterwards. Now that I've thought about it, I came up with a much more comprehensive list:

1. My 30th birthday party, sans head injury.
2. Gaming with friends and trying to get a gaming crew together.
3. Seeing friends get married.
4. Spending time with Lisa.
5. Getting a form letter from the English department asking me to be an English major. They liked my grades.
6. Moving out of our God-forsaken house.
7. Being accepted to the University of Ljubljana.

Ah hell, there's probably more but I'm stuck for ideas. Overall, a fine year. Lots of adventure and experimentation, I met new people and continued to stay close to old friends. You've all been great, you know that?

Alright, see you when I see you.

Please send help, and coffee.

We started packing and moving furniture yesterday morning at around 9:00. It is now 3:30 in the morning, almost twenty-four hours later, and we are about 80% finished. The large furniture is packed, and just about every box is gone, too. We have another six hours to finish up before the moving company comes by to pick up the crate. We are exhausted. There were moments when we just wanted to walk away, change our names and disappear in a foreign country rather than face another hour of incessant packing.

I am watching Arsenal play at 9:30 AM. You're damn right I am.

Oh, thank God, we are almost finished.

MAKE THE MOVING STOP

Boxes and bags and tape and hammers.

Moving day. Ugh.

We started packing before Christmas, and we resumed when we returned from our brief but lovely holiday. I've already taken the bookshelves apart and now we're moving onto the bathroom and kitchen. Lisa is posting some of our furniture on Craigslist, which is remarkably efficient: most of the pieces will be gone today. It seems like people are always hovering around on that site.

It's not like we have a million things to pack, but with only two days to finish we can feel the pressure. Luckily we bought a couple bottles of wine to help with the process. Taking periodic breaks helps, too. There's nothing overly poetic about moving, but I do feel strangely satisfied to throw / give away the flotsam and jetsam we've accumulated over the years.

Sorry, this is a boring post, but really this is the only thing going on at the moment. Moving out is just a cog in the wheel that will roll us into Slovenia. I will really miss this house - the neighbourhood is near perfect and we're very close to downtown; however, I won't miss the moldy windows and drafty rooms. I'm hoping we can find another house in the same 'hood.

Okay, back to it.

Happy Holidays!

It's the most wondeful time of the year.

We are now at Lisa's parent's abode. We arrived this afternoon after a frantic packing and organizing session, which included herding the poor cat into his kennel for the trip. He had to visit the vet a couple of days ago for his annual check-up and vaccinations (yes, I'm actually cat-blogging - if you're already bored skip this part), and he took a couple of days to recover from the injections. He basically slept and refused food, which worried us at first, but now that he's in a new environment the fire has promptly returned to his eyes.

The weather is chilly in the valley, and there are a few patches of snow scattered around. I think that really makes the holiday.

So, a quiet Christmas for me this year. Unfortunately, we can only have a few days off before we return to Vancouver and pack up our house. I wish I could celebrate longer, but them's the breaks.

Also, this was my dad's favourite holiday. He grew up in a Catholic family in Quebec, and Christmas was a huge celebration for that side of the family. My dad would always talk about réveillon, when families, after Mass, would be up all night on Christmas Eve to eat and drink. I'm going to miss his homemade presents and the huge, steaming pot of grog we would make on Christmas Day. I am happy and grateful, yes, but I also feel a little hollow inside, too. This year I'm just going to enjoy a restful pleasant holiday and do some writing and reading. Oh, and my homework.

I think this year I will try to replicate my dad's grog recipe, although he used another type of fruit juice rather than lime (or lemon). That's more of a punch than true grog. I suppose he just liked the word "grog."

Say it now with me: grog. Good job.

I haven't had a cigarette in awhile. Yay me. Of course, now I have this overwhelming urge to consume an entire cheesecake and a bottle of whiskey, but hey - at least I'm not smoking. I'll just gain two hundred pounds while trying to curb my cravings.

Merry Christmas!

Here . . .

Christmas in Vienna.

Outer Space and Beatniks

The First Fireworks

NASA recently photographed the resonating glow from the first "things" created in the universe 13 billion years ago. Alexander Kashlinsky, the spokesperson from NASA's Goddard Space Flight Centre, made this intriguing statement in the article:

"Imagine trying to see fireworks at night from across a crowded city," Dr. Kashlinsky said. "If you could turn off the city lights, you might get a glimpse at the fireworks. We have shut down the lights of the universe to see the outlines of its first fireworks."

Yes, please, shut off all the lights in the universe.

A Beat Comedy

Pull My Daisy, filmed by Robert Frank in 1959, is what I consider to be the quintessential "text" on the Beat movement. Narrated by Jack Kerouac and featuring such luminaries as Allen Ginsberg and Geogory Corso, this short film is important because the figures in the movement are documenting, and thus, explaining themselves, leaving out biographers and critics.



Also, check out this cut-up routine by William S. Burroughs and Antony Balch:



More on this film and other experiments later.

As I move closer to grad school I've been thinking about future projects. There's been a word bouncing around in my head for quite some time, so I'll drop it in here and listen to whatever sounds it makes when it drops: sociopoetics.

I'll leave it at that for now and rummage through my research.

I'm back.

I'm doing alright today.

We buried my dad on Friday, and I came home yesterday afternoon. The interment was brief but ceremonial: I carried his urn to his site, and everyone present helped me lower his remains into the ground. My dad's grave is under three trees standing close together, so we decorated a branch hanging over his marker with Christmas ornaments. That was his favourite holiday.

Now, I move on.

I'm leaving soon, and although I'll probably implode by New Year's, I'm confident we'll get everything finished by the end of the month. To make everything easier I tried to set up tangible goals. I took the liberty of putting up a blog for our Slovenia trip. That way, I have something to look forward to when all my obligations are fulfilled. Also, I love tinkering with websites and text.

The blog, entitled Spare Winter Hours, is here. Bear with me - it's still under construction.

Um, what else? I actually did a fair bit of writing in Victoria. Not just school-related writing but also my side projects as well. I edited some stories, reformatted a comic book script and added more material to a second script. I was quite proud of myself.

I find editing my work to be somewhat therapeutic. No one can control the random events that pummel the soft, fleshy exterior of their day-to-day lives, but to create something from nothing, and to have a degree of control over that creation, makes the world a much more comfortable place.

Also, I need to want to write 4000 words by January 9th. Ugh.

Addendum: I hope I don't sound insensitive - I'm terribly sad, but I need to return to my life if I'm going to survive the rest of the month. When dealing with a distressing situation, going back to a routine actually helps.

In Memoriam, Michael Kenneth Webb

On Friday, December 8th, at approximately 9:30 PM, my father quietly passed away.

My mom, Lisa and I left his room at around 9:00 to get food, and when we got back to my parents' place we got the phone call. I haven't cried like I did that night for a long time.

According to the nurse, it's very common for people to wait until they're alone to pass on. My dad wanted to leave with dignity, and he did.

The memorial will be held on Wednesday. I will be reading a eulogy.

I want to give a huge, heartfelt thank you to friends and family who have supported my mom and I during my dad's passing. On behalf of my family, we appreciate all you've done and said.

Take care of yourselves.

Message from the Island.

I have to be quick before my laptop's battery dies:

I rushed to Victoria Monday night, after dashing off an email to my profs explaining that I won't be around for my two exams this week, and the exam on Monday. Or, to be more exact, I won't be able to hand in my two take-home exams and my final paper.

My dad has made another turn for the worse. I'm not going to add further details - my family deserves their privacy. I can say it's only a matter of time.

Everyday Should Be Like Sunday

To wake up late and sip coffee while reading the news online as winter blows into town is, quite frankly, the best way to spend a Sunday.

So, this is what I've been up to lately:

Still writing my essay, I am. I have two take-home exams, one is 1500 words and the other is 1000 words, which is terribly easy, and three in-class exams in-between. I finish on the 19th. For one essay I'll be explicating a passage from Nietzsche's "On Truth and Lying in a Non-Moral Sense" and the other will be on Barthes' (and two or three other theorists) take on textuality.

I prefer the take-home exam. It seems unrealistic to ask someone to write down something smart in two and a half hours. Academic work is not done on the fly; the best work is done slowly and meticulously, like tending to a garden.

One of these days I should find a way to upload my successful essays so others can plagiarize enjoy them and insult me mercilessly give me feedback.

I am designing a website for myself. Lisa has iWeb on her laptop, and I've been piecing it together in my spare time. It's part vanity site and part work site, and I'll be showing off published work and hopefully some podcasts. Since I have three radio plays mapped out it might be fun to get some people together and record the rehearsals.

That's the problem with school: I find it hard to juggle creative work with school work. This has been a big dilemma for me, and I could use some heckling advice.

I've updated my links today. Friends, if you have blogs or websites I should know about, email me right away. Thanks.