The Boarshead Tavern

2006-10-01T14:48:00.000-04:00

The Boarshead Tavern is now permanently closed.

jedan ... dva ... tri!

2006-09-20T23:56:00.000-04:00

Yup. I still exist. Just been crazy busy.

Doin' stuff. And reading books.

Well, you see, I missed the Season last time I was in Spain ...

2006-08-27T23:05:00.000-04:00

Next spring I will be leaving this quiet continent to backpack through India for a month. At the moment, I'm intending to fly to Mumbai and then head down to Goa. From there ... who knows?

Anyone fancy a quick trip 'round the Raj?

Immobil

2006-07-31T01:32:00.000-04:00

If you've ever ridden the Tube, you might enjoy this website about abandoned stations and disused lines that I found on digg :

I know what I'm doing the next time I'm in London.

ps. The first person to get the Matrix reference will receive a cheque,signed by yours truly, for £2.50 GBP!

And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet ...

2006-07-31T00:02:00.000-04:00

Behold, ye despisers, and wonder!

I've managed to successfully repair my old laptop (a Dell Inspiron 5150) and install a fresh copy of the sexiest GNU/Linux distribution around, Kubuntu "Dapper Drake" 6.06 LTS:

Now I have two laptops - one for work (Mac OS X/iBook) and one for play (Linux/Inspiron). And you said my obsession with computers would never come in handy ;-)

Murdersome ...

2006-07-27T15:13:00.000-04:00

That's how the heat makes me feel. Murdersome. I don't care if it's not a real word. Kingston is bloody hot. It's 28C right now, but it FEELS like 36C ... in the shade (The Weather Network: Kingston). It's been like this for almost two weeks straight and nobody here seems to notice. I've never lived somewhere this hot before. Anything above 23C counts as a heat wave in both Britain and Vancouver. This kind of heat would kill most Scots. I feel like these two:

At the moment, I would kill for a week or two of snow. Ah, snow - sweet, sweet snow.

Upon The Face Of The Deep

2006-07-21T19:27:00.000-04:00

Last night I went swimming with two friends in Lake Ontario/Cataraqui River at 3am. The water was very warm and incredibly refreshing. Matt warned Breanne and I, with fear in his eyes and a trembling voice, that man-sized moxies (doxies, mokies?) might tear off our legs and leave us to die in the dark water at the bottom of the lake. We paid him no heed and all jumped in. We're thinking of making the "late-night lake jump" a Ph.D. initiation rite; one must taste the water before drinking from the fountain.

"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime. Ask the infantry and the dead."

2006-07-17T21:00:00.000-04:00

This just came in on the English Grad listserve, apparently in response to a post on Education's listserve. I thought I should post it as well:

I am writing from Jerusalem where I just came out of 48 hours confined to a basement in Safed, northern Israel, trapped without running water and little food as dozens of missles from Lebanon fell around us. The ground shook as rockets fell only metres away from where we lay hidden. Once I held my new born nephew as we watched in horror as a missle fell right outside of our make shift shelter. Everything shook horribly and we thought our lives were over. When morning came and the rockets continued to fall, we ran for our lives through the streets of Sefad to flee the city.

Now I jump at every sound I hear.

Steven, I am sorry for your friend and I desperately want an end to this war but your e-mail was grossly one sided. I do not believe that your e-mail was at all appropriate for our Education listserv but I felt, in light of your e-mail, compelled to tell of the hell that my family and I have endured over the last few days.

Leah Roth

Lebanon

2006-07-17T11:57:00.000-04:00

My friend (and doctoral colleague) Rula is currently stuck in Beirut. She went home in April to visit her family and is now unable to leave. This morning she sent an open letter to the English Graduate listserve. I feel obliged to distribute it (yes, sometimes even I have a political conscience):

Dear All,

I am sending this email from Beirut, because I want to let as many people as possible know about the atrocities that are happening in Lebanon. I send this email because I need to speak out, because nobody seems to know what's really happening. Perhaps there might be some response, some protest, a demonstration on the part of the Queen's or the Canadian community.

I was supposed to come back to Canada today with my family, but because I am not a Canadian or American citizen, there is no ship or plane to smuggle us out of the country. I came here to see my family and my country and am now watching my country being destroyed...Israel says it is striking military bases, but so far what are army planes targeting? Not bases, but whole buildings of innocent civilians, blasting their limbs here and there. They are striking terrified families who have been warned
to evacuate their homes just as they are fleeing in their cars and buses. Entire families are being wiped out. Children and babies who have no idea of what is going on are being charred, trapped in burning houses and cars. Entire bridges, highways, electricity companies, airports, touristic points are being annihilated. There is no way I can possibly convey to you the horrors and the injustices that are being committed. 25,000 have had to flee their homes because their homes have been leveled. All the produce in our farms and fields is going to waste because there is no way to
distribute it to the needy families in the country. There is no communication between areas, so families are unable to check on their loved ones. People flee from one area only to be struck in another. And what is the Western world doing? I don't know.

I am sending this email, not for any sympathy or condolences, but because I am a Lebanese student and because Canada and Queen's are also part of my community. So I send it in the hope that there might be at least a little awareness and hopefully some action or sign of protest - I really don't know. Here me and my family are giving out clothes, food, and opening our homes to those who need homes. I only wish I could do more. I am sorry if my email has errors or isn't very fancy, but it is hard to be coherent and clear-headed when ur country is being torn piece by piece. I thank all of those who have sent me emails for their concerns, especially my close and dearest friends.

God bless,

Rula

See Paul's blog for more pictures.

Our Prime Minister, Mr. Stephen Harper, suggests that "we (as Canadians) recognize Israel's right to self-determination." If slaughtering children constitutes "self-determination", then I'm afraid I don't recognise Israel's right to self-determination, whether I'm Canadian or not.

Attack of the Scutigera Coleoptrata!

2006-07-11T22:45:00.000-04:00

These things:

live in Kingston. We call them "Kingston Bugs". I'm pretty sure they're actually house centipedes. That picture is life-size. They scare the hell out of me.

My cat, Мочка (Mochka):

just ate one. With relish.

I like my cat.

Noah Body Strikes Back

2006-07-03T15:16:00.000-04:00

It seems that someone has taken a rather virulent dislike to this blog. The person in question, an anonymous poster of course, has resorted to insulting poor ol' Swaggering Pistoll in the comments section of each post. As a result, I've decided to play a game of insult tennis with them. Let's see how the match is shaping up so far:

Anonymous said...
I just don't see hell-bent-for-leather coming from you.

12:18 AM

Swaggering Pistoll said...
You obviously didn't see me after I went for a swim in icy Lake Ontario in March.

I am so offended :-)

Also, why are you anonymous? "How" am "I" "supposed" "to read" this "text"?

1:27 AM

Anonymous said...
hi swaggering pistol i think you are so cool please do keep posting wonderful items and anecdotes on your blog. blogs are so cool. yay for blogs.

1:59 PM

Swaggering Pistoll said...
These comments are confusing me. Do I have an enemy?

4:24 PM

elbeato said...
I'm not the anonymous one, but I'm happy to see the tavern open for business again.

12:21 PM

Anonymous said...
please stop being a pretentious ass.

Signed, my fist

2:11 AM

Swaggering Pistoll said...
Stop being a prententious ass? if you know me at all, then you must know that being a prententious ass is what I do best ;-)

Why, Mr or Ms Anonymous, won't you reveal your true identity? Is that comment about your fist some kind of kinky pick-up line? I'm intrigued, jackass.

2:34 AM

Matt said...
This e-war is intriguing. It's like when Spiderman fights Dr. Noah Body in the original Spiderman cartoon series. Noah Body is invisible and keeps striking mercilessly. At the end of the episode, not surprisingly, Noah Body's body and identity is revealed. The suspense over, the viewer immensely satisfied. Will we get the same viewer satisfaction here?

Congrats on the new place.

11:04 AM

Anonymous said...
please stop writing your blog and/or any non-academic text.

Signed, my brain and eyes

1:52 PM

Swaggering Pistoll said...
Hey fucknut, "what" "exactly" "is" a "non-academic text"?

Sweet Mother of Jesus, anonymous! Are you Krang from the "Ninja Turtles"? I knew I shouldn't have kicked the living shit out of that guy from Dimension X.

3:16 PM

Time Enough ... For Bloglove?

2006-06-29T21:02:00.000-04:00

Word is bond. Alright, so here's the deal-yo.

I've moved into a new apartment. It's very nice (hardwood floors), very spacious (high ceilings) and very central (above the Sleepless Goat - ewww ... patchouli ). Some of you have been to this apartment before ... often before passing out in front of the "doors of perception"; it used to belong to Devin, aka "Superfly". All in all, I'm pretty gosh darn happy with it.

Unfortunately, I still don't have my own high-speed internet connection and am currently leeching off a generic linsys wireless zombie. (It's amazing how many people don't even KNOW that their always-on router is hideously non-secure (this isn't a spelling error - despite the zombie appellation, I just can't bring myself to call a router "insecure"). Hell, I've even set up my own rules for port-forwarding on this one ;-). Once I do have my own connection, however, I fully intend to start blogging again in true hell-bent-for-leather Hunter S. Thompson gonzostyle.

So keep an eye on the ol' Tavern; you never know what I might put in the beer.

God, Peacocks and the Deep South

2006-06-12T14:39:00.000-04:00

Does anyone know where I can find a copy of the self-portrait that Flannery O'Connor is standing beside in the picture below?

I wish I had a favourite peacock.

Pistoll the Prententious Prancer

2006-06-08T01:38:00.000-04:00

Warning: this post is neither witty nor clever.

So, I've decided to change the "tone" of this blog. From now on, instead of the usual cryptic ranting, I'll be recording a semi-autobiographical account of my life. I say semi-autobiographical only because I'm inveterate (and most of the the time, unrepentant) liar. When I tell people about myself (particularly if the spirit of Dionysius is hovering behind my left shoulder), I like to "spice it up", to add a little whiskey to the punch, so to speak. This is not to imply that everything you've ever heard (about) me say is untrue - quite the opposite; I've just helped the truth out now and then. If Orwell can get away with it (cf. Barcelona), then so can I; that's right - I'm also a hideously conceited bastard.

Perhaps you've been wondering what I've been up to lately (I bet you're not actually all that interested though; reading a blog is, after all, sort of like hearing somebody else recount their absolutely pointless dream to you)? Well, two things mainly: 1) scanning and OCRing contemporary reviews of Flannery O'Connor, and 2) marking/teaching/reliving a 2nd-year Shakespeare summer course. The OCR project (part of an RAship I managed to snag over at the Royal Military College) is pretty fly; Flannery rocks and I get to play with fancy computers all day. The pay is also amazing ($20/hour). Whoring yourself out to academia does pay off if you do it for long enough. The Shakespeare course ain't all that bad either. In the summer term, Tutor/Markers (Queen's lingo for "correspondence TAs") are given godlike powers by the University; I determine, without any input from the instructor (another Ph.D. student) or the Department, what each student's grade should be. I am, so far as my students are concerned, the very embodiment of Shakespearean criticism, the giver of good grades and the dispenser of anxiety. They are, fully and completely, at the mercy of my academic "taste". Dope, that's what I say, dope.

Apart from markin' and scannin' (also the name of a song from my favourite album, "Robotliebe: 20 Great Midi Power Ballads), I've also bin doin' a lot of readin' and watchin', as well as a bit of (hurtin') and listenin'.

Readin': This summer, which I've affectionally named "Asimov and James Tiberius Kirk: a Phallocentric Tribute", I intend to devour voluminous amounts of (un)manly sci-fi. "Technically", this IS "work" for my Special Topics Presentation next May. At the moment, I'm nearing the end of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and I've already finished Herbert's Dune Messiah, Aldiss' Earthworks and the first part of Gaiman's Sandman series. Next on the list is K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness. At some point I might also start studying for my comprehensive exams; I'm now officially a contemporary Americanist (1945-present) in the eyes of the department - take that Sir Philip Sidney!

Watchin': Once again, I've been indulging in copious amounts of sci-fi goodness; THX 1138, ZARDOZ, The Thing, and Alien are but a fraction of what I've seen so far. Don't worry though, I'm not limiting myself to smoking hot alien chicks and spaceships. Tomorrow, for instance, I'm going to watch the Crying Game. I sure hope there aren't any ambiguously gendered characters in it. We all know how I feel about trannies.

(Hurtin'): I've decided to find out what makes large numbers of drunken men turn into enraged, musty gorillas ready to fight anything that moves after 2am. This "research" could hurt - hence the brackets.

Listenin': I'm raping Jon's computer. He's currently sharing 90GB of music. Oh obscure Belle & Sebastian EP, how I love thee.

See, I told you this post would be neither clever nor witty.

Bene valete, amici!

Pinned to the Seedy Underbelly of Queen's English: a Night Out at Our Place, Tipper's and AJ's

2006-05-07T15:02:00.000-04:00

Dan: a modern-day Hemingway - (L-R) Jon, Kevin and Dan.

Jon surfs the "Interweb" guided by our good friend Nietzsche.

Sunset in K-town.

Sofia: Queen of the Foosball Table.

Sofia and Christine enjoying some tiggerific Hochtaler.

Rochelle and I: an homage to Miami Vice.

That's right - we play crib at parties. You got a problem with that? - (L-R) Tipper's buddy, Devin and Dan.

More hot cribbage action - (L-R) Tipper's buddy, Tipper and Dan.

Jon: Master of Leaning on Stuff - (L-R) Rochelle, Jon and Michelle.

Welcome to AJ's: Jon and Tipper.

Captain Ziggs takes the helm.

Devin and Johanne share a secret.

Tipper likes to play pool according to the "no-shoes-in-a-nasty-sticky-club" rule.

Devin on the dancefloor: his Wu style is immensely strong and immune to nearly any weapon.

Rochelle and Jon: givin' the best of their love!

Jon and Christine: Magnet and Steel

Christine and Devin: lil' bit of dis, lil' bit of dat.

Tipper and Devin: Shaolin represent!

Dan: smilin' and leanin'.

Jon: tuckered out after a tough night at Tipper's.

Bringing Balance To The Force

2006-05-04T16:08:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm finally done for the year. In the last month I wrote 3 4000-word papers, marked 38 8-page undergraduate papers and lectured on Shakespeare four times. Now it's time to relax ... and boogie. If you want an idea of how I'm feeling right now, check out this video that I shamelessly stole from boingboing.net:

StarLords

Remember: the dancefloor + Hans Solo + Tony Manero = me!

The Cult of Mac

2006-04-27T22:56:00.000-04:00

I bought a new computer in January (yeah, I know - this post is a little late ;-)

It's a 14" Apple iBook G4:

The specs (for all you geeks out there):

1.42GHz PowerPC G4
512K L2 cache @1.42GHz
512MB memory (DDR333 SDRAM)
14.1-inch TFT Display
1024x768 resolution
ATI Mobility Radeon 9550
32MB DDR video memory
60GB Ultra ATA hard drive
SuperDrive (DVD±RW/CD-RW)
Built-in AirPort Extreme
Built-in Bluetooth 2.0+EDR
Scrolling Trackpad
Sudden Motion Sensor

My Desktop: Darwin du184.n195.resnet.queensu.ca 8.6.0 Darwin Kernel Version 8.6.0: Tue Mar 7 16:58:48 PST 2006; root:xnu-792.6.70.obj~1/RELEASE_PPC Power Macintosh powerpc

I know it's not a MacTel, but whatever; I never intend to run Windows again so why should I care? Besides, I'm an English student and I appreciate things that are aesthetically pleasing - like my new Mac :-)

PS. Don't buy a Dell ... and then install Linux and Windows on it over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. This is very bad for your hard drive.

Welcome ... To The Pleasuredome

2006-04-22T23:20:00.000-04:00

We're all really aliens from the planet Watmaccor. After a few cans of $2 Old Milwaukee, Earth's most disgusting beer, our human masks start to slip.

Gunflungex (aka Devin) and Glasertez (aka Jon). Notice Gunflungex's salute - the sign of our clan back on Watmaccor.

Burnuffang (aka Matt) and Hatrewqin (aka Kevin) enoying this thing you humans call language.

Falhalius (aka "me") and Huilix (aka Sofia) plotting, always plotting.

Ligers And Tigons And Mules, Oh My!

2006-04-20T16:08:00.000-04:00

Napoleon's favourite animal, the Liger, is real!

If you ever come across one though, you'd better watch out - it's a well-known fact that they're bred for their skills in magic ... most often by evil wizards.

Ontological Snapshot, 3:09 a.m. - April 10, 2006

2006-04-10T01:51:00.000-04:00

What I am:

Arguing: that Clarissa Dalloway, Peter Walsh and Septimus Smith in Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway are unmasked by their memorially-reconstructed, heteroglossic discourse.

Hearing: Sufjan Stevens' Illinois, particularly "John Wayne Gacy, Jr."

Watching: Season 2 of the X-Files and a number of Russian arthouse films (Andrej Monastyrskij's "Talk with a Lamp" - "Разговор с лампой" at the moment).

Drinking: poor-quality, boxed white wine bought by the head of my department. "Gi' us a pint, loof".

Eating: an orange.

Movin' On Up To The Ghetto

2006-04-08T00:17:00.000-04:00

Dan, Jon and I are getting a house in the Ghetto for the summer (May 1 ->). It's gonna be sweet: patio, frat-style beer bong and lots of Victorian and CanLit talk. Heather will be couch-surfing with us for three weeks as well. Good times. Stop by if you're anywhere near K-town.

Poste Restante

2006-04-02T01:30:00.000-05:00

Claris,

You have assumed so many glittering mantles and worn such vibrant eyeshadow - your lips have glistened by the light of so many hazy moons. Standing at the top of the stairs with the wind blowing back that treacherous velvet, you have left me thinking, cogitating, ruminating and longing: who is that young man whose silhouette glowers by the lamplight? A flick of his hand expresses more than any word you've spoken, more than the lurid glances your eyes have cast upon these abysmal, yellowing walls. When the door shuts and the cleaners come to sweep, back and forth, I will know no more than I know now. I wooed you with subtly chosen words (words that other men fear to speak), with flowery phrases nicked from our prudish ancestors. And still I insistently ask, inquire, and interrogate you with the thorough drudgery and stolid determination of a low ranking bureaucrat; why must you always buy the flowers alone? You are indeed the perfect hostess, my dear; quiet, sensual and resolved.

Your ever-faithful,
And most obedient admirer,
John de Septer,
Lord Severndale

"They only want you when you're seventeen. When you're twenty-one, you're no fun."

2006-03-29T15:39:00.000-05:00

I'm going to see Ladytron in Montreal on April 19th! I'll be backpacking so that I can hit up Ottawa on the way back.

Anyone care to join me?

Friday: A Spontaneous Celebration For No Particular Reason

2006-03-25T17:24:00.000-05:00

At the Toucan for dinner: (L-R) Matt, Ian, Erin, Breanne, Natalia and Shalini.

At Matt's apartment: (L-R) Ian, Shannon, Corrine, Ryan, Erin, Natalia and Breanne.

Devin and Matt, chillin'.

Matt "training" for our Trailer Trash Party. Erin is now his official challenger; both claim to be able to down a 40 of OE in less than 10 minutes :-)

A cat on a leash that we saw on the walk over to Devin's.

Camera-duelling at Devin's: (L-R) Corrine, Ryan, Devin and Matt.

"Brains ... must eat brains!": Self-portrait, 4am.

Home For A Rest?

2006-03-15T01:55:00.000-05:00

Should I fly to London,
Take the train to York/Leeds,
And then Edinburgh
This May?

I think I need to get away from the Colonies for awhile :-)

What do you think?

(I'll buy you a pint if you can name the "corner" in the photograph!)

"We Forgot All The Names That ... The Names We Used To Know"

2006-03-14T01:42:00.000-05:00

I spoke to Alli last week. I haven't talked to her for over six months.

Liliana, her daughter, is now three months old, although she apparently looks and acts more like a five-month old. Alli, Yura (her husband) and Liliana will be moving to Canada towards the end of March. They currently live in St. Petersburg, in Russia. They will be relocating to Ottawa sometime next year, whenever Alli begins her M.A. in Russian and Eastern European Studies at Carleton.

Strangely enough, I still speak entirely and utterly without reserve to Alli. What's the point in hiding behind any of the masks? She's always able to tear them off in the end.

Besides ... the anger's gone now. Faded, dissipated, redistributed, channeled.

"... the one who's searchin', searchin' to destroy"

2006-03-12T23:57:00.000-05:00

Today:

1) I attended a service at St. James (Anglican Chruch of Canada - "Low") and listened to a wonderful sermon by the Reverend Don Bailey on the Gospel of St. Mark (8:27-34). The Reverend's reading of Peter's rebuke (as usual Peter was "savouring not the things that be of God") laid out his interpretive framework for his subsequent sermon; a classic piece of allegorical hermeneutics which unravelled both the figure of Satan hiding behind Peter's shoulder while moving towards a powerful, "pre-structuralist" (is this a word yet?) reinterpretation of Christ's commandment that his followers "take up [their respective] cross".
Sombre and Lenten. Good stuff.

2) I ate an enormous (and delicious) breakfast at the Brew Pub with Rochelle and two other girls from the church. The eggs-over-easy and bacon made me sleepy.

3) I slept until 4pm. I dreamt that I saw the faces of the Seraphim descending upon the frozen waves of the lake, lit by the setting sun.

4) I woke up in a panic and hurried to the office. I had a date with King Lear. I "borrowed" (this is totally acceptable while lecturing) an argument concerning the relationship between King Lear and early Jacobean political theory from William Dodd for my lecture on Tuesday.

5) I ate a sandwich.

6) I continued to formulate the first part of my lecture notes to show Elizabeth tomorrow. A thoroughly nerve-wracking experience.

7) I walked around in the fog for a while (where has all the snow gone?) and then went home.

And now:

I will watch an episode from the League of Gentleman. The League of Gentlemen, unlike a number of other great British comedies from the last couple of years (Little Britain, The Office, Da Ali G Show etc), has yet to impress itself upon Canadian cultural consciousness. Also, I don't know a single person here who would laugh when I mention the name of the (in)famous Peter Kay, Bolton's favourite son.

Dann muss ich schlafen.

"He, too, sat down and howled"

2006-03-09T22:58:00.000-05:00

Rochelle and I just watched Grizzly Man (directed by Werner Herzog) and I must say that I'm very impressed. Timothy Treadwell, a failed actor with a troubled past, lived mostly alone for 13 years among huge, ferocious grizzlies in Alaska. In 2003 both he and his girlfriend were attacked and eaten by a grizzly while preparing to leave for the winter. Crazy and, in its own rather peculiar way, incredibly touching.

A quote from Treadwell:

I'm in love with my animal friends. I'm in love with my animal friends! In love with my animal friends. I'm very, very troubled. It's very emotional. It's probably not cool even looking like this. I'm so in love with them, and they're so fucked over, which so sucks.

I think that it's entirely possible to love animals a bit too much; a grizzly can weigh up to 1500 pounds, run up to 55 km/h and swipe at perceived prey with 2 inch claws. Combine this with what Herzog calls "the overwhelming indifference of nature" and you have a fairly unfriendly, and definitely non-human, animal to reckon with.

"'... all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.'"

2006-03-08T23:02:00.000-05:00

Good conversation tonight about the rhetorical strategies of vegetarianism, Orwell, speciesism and the academic politics of Christian faith. In the words of Kevin, "a conversation only possible amongst five, relatively liberal-minded, literary scholars".

Reminded me of the Chemic with Michel and/or Brickies with Dominic.

I do, however, humbly apologise to Mr. Pynchon and Oedipa Maas for shamefully neglecting them this evening. We will always have tomorrow ... entwined in our own W.A.S.T.E.

Bandwagon-jumpin'

2006-03-04T00:47:00.000-05:00

Comics - they're finally entering the academic mainstream. And it's about damn time. We've already embraced most other types of literary production with the glaring exception of comics. They've always seemed rather "silly" to the vast majority in the academy. It appears, however, that this attitude is changing. Last night I went to the first winter meeting of our comics study group here at Queen's with a number of other English grads and faculty (we discussed Alan Moore's The Watchmen). It began to dawn on me, as I drank beer and we discussed how (and if) Moore engages with post-Marxist thought, just how much of my "tentative" thesis (constructions of masculinity (masculinity studies) in contemporary science fiction) rests upon a foundation of comics. The Scifi canon draws as much from comics as it does from books (and, of course, films). Where would science fiction be, for example, without "Amazing Stories" and Superman? Comics, like Moore's V For Vendetta and The Watchmen, that play with superhero conventions are as intriguing in their own way as any poem that mucks about with metrical and typographical structure (think anything by e.e. cummings). I think it's high time we started exploiting them seriously.

Comics - Thou art a guest long look't for; I embrace thee and thy wounds.

"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear"

2006-02-28T21:27:00.000-05:00

I tend to obsess over things ... including music ;-)

Last week I downloaded as many copies of "Amazing Grace" as I could find (20+ and still counting!). An exercise, so to speak, in repetitive variation.

This week I'm listening to Johnny Cash - in particular, this song (linked below):

Johhny Cash - Daddy Sang Bass.m4a

I just can't seem to get it out of my mind. Must be Mr. Cash's irresistible charm.

Calisthenics For Romantics

2006-02-26T02:45:00.000-05:00

It’s so damn hot in Headingly. Why is it so hot? The air smells heavier than normal. I hope they won’t mind if I wear shorts up the pub. Who is that standing on the corner waiting for me? Why isn’t he inside? She probably won’t come … not much ‘a one for the bouze. And I’ll bitch and bitch and bitch about the cold. It’s so damn cold on this boat. My hands are numb, my feet are numb and my throat hurts. I don’t care for the Orsay, no matter my regret now. She’s not going to forgive me for this though. I can tell; this is simply unforgivable. Turning her away in the sick and fatal dark. A note: “only something in me understands, the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses”. What have I done? She’ll never forgive me for what I’m about to do … but I can’t handle this. Awake. The cat is on my leg. Shoo. Come here: let me see you, your face and body. Are you awake? Can you hear the wind outside? Is the window open? Should I put my arm around her - here, by the sink? No, it would be an affront and I doubt if I should, should, should should???? But, alas, “the snow was general all over”. So let me leave and face that royal thoroughfare again and again while the fall turns. I can feel the heat of the setting sun perpetually hiding (winking - "click, clack") behind Victoria’s blank gaze and stern petticoat.

I finally live in Canada

2006-02-25T01:05:00.000-05:00

Where people play hockey outside at 2am.

" ... your heart would have responded gaily, when invited, beating obedient to controlling hands ..."

2006-02-24T19:33:00.000-05:00

Some prints by Eric Gill (1882-1940). Depicting the final hours. Of Iesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews. Before Pontius Pilatus, Procurator of Judea. At the palace. And on the road to Golgotha. On the cross. And laid in the tomb.

И я

забыл

твой голос

нежный,

твои

небесные

черты.

"Forthwith a power of English shall we levy"

2006-02-15T22:55:00.000-05:00

I've decided to re-open the Boarshead Tavern. Perhaps it was the lovely dinner tonight and the stimulating conversation. Stay tuned for future (cryptic and, dare I say, witty) posts.

For R: The original of the Glen Baxter cartoon on the cover of the CD

Der weiß doch nicht, was das Leben schöner macht?

2006-02-02T21:52:00.000-05:00

Unfortunately, the Boarshead Tavern is still closed. We will open sometime soon.

I leave you, in the meantime, with a passage from Virginia Woolf's Mrs Dalloway (the most perfect novel ever written; the illustrious Fyodor Mikhailovich has been knocked off his pedestal) and a painting by Richard Hamilton:

Swingeing London III, 1972

"Since it was a very hot night and the paper boys went by with placards proclaiming in huge red letters that there was a heat wave, wicker chairs were placed on the hotel steps and there, sipping, smoking, detached gentlemen sat. Peter Walsh sat there. One might fancy that day, the London day, was just beginning. Like a woman who had slipped off her print dress and white apron to array herself in blue and pearls, the day changed, put off stuff, took guaze, changed to evening, and with the same sigh of exhileration that a woman breathes, tumbling petticoats on the floor, it too shed dust, heat, colour; the traffic thinned; motor cars, tinkling, darting, succeeded the lumber of vans; and here and there among the thick foliage of the squares an intense light hung. I resign, the evening seemed to say, as it paled and faded above the battlements and prominences, moulded, pointed, of hotel, flat, and block of shops, I fade, she was beginning, I disappear, but London would have none of it, and rushed her bayonets into the sky, pinioned her, constrained her to partnership in her revelry."

2006-01-16T14:32:00.000-05:00

The Boarshead Tavern is closed for repairs.

"Mais quand il eut de nouveau revu le visage de ce monde, goûté l’eau et le soleil, les pierres chaudes et la mer, il ne voulut plus retourner dans l’ombre infernale. Les rappels, les colères et les avertissements n’y firent rien. Bien des années encore, il vécut devant la courbe du golfe, la mer éclatante et les sourires de la terre. Il fallut un arrêt des dieux." - AC

"The word within a word, unable to speak a word, swaddled ..."

2006-01-12T00:56:00.000-05:00

Quiet again - for the time being.

Barnett Newman, from Eighteen Cantos, 'Canto II' (1963-4)

Silent.

see how far I'll come a-run a-run run running

2006-01-12T00:54:00.000-05:00

Some more Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!

mp3: In This Home On Ice

Blue you radiant blue I don't know how you can stand next to me you you talk like a noose and only confuse my perplexity now that I'm so sad and not quite right I could dance all night I could dance all night

"A Slap in the Face of Public Taste"

2006-01-09T01:37:00.000-05:00

I'd forgotton how much I like some of Mayakovsky's poems.

In English (translated by Tatiana Tulchinsky, Andrew Wachtel, and Gwenan Wilbur):

To His Beloved Self, the Author Dedicates These Lines (1916)

Some words.
Heavy as a blow.
"Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's- to God what is God's."
And one
such as I,
where shall I squeeze in?
Where is my den?

If only I were
small
as the great Pacific -
I'd stand up on the waves' tiptoes
and caress the moon with my tides.
Where am I to find a beloved
equal to myself?
Such a woman has no place in the tiny heavens!

If only I were poor!
As a billionaire!
What's money to the soul?
There's an insatiable thief in mine.
All the gold in California couldn't feed
the unbridled horde of my desires.

If I could only be as tongue-tied
as Dante
or Petrarch!
Turn my soul's fire on one woman!
Make it smolder out in verse!
My words
and my love-
are a triumphal arch:
the beloveds of all ages
would pass through it gloriously,
without a trace.

If only I were
quiet
as thunder-
I would whimper
and, trembling, embrace earth's decrepit cloister.
If I outroar in an enormous voice
with all the power of thunder-
comets will wring their burning hands,
and fling themselves down in despair.

I would crack open nights with my eye's ray,
if only I were
dim as the sun!
I so need
to slake with my shining
the sunken bosom of the earth!

I will pass by,
dragging my giant-love.
In what
delirious
feverish night,
by what Goliaths was I conceived-
so big
and so useless?

And in the original:

Себе любимому посвещает эти строки автор

Четыре.
Тяжелые, как удар.
"Кесарево кесарю - богу богово".
А такому,
как я,
ткнуться куда?
Где мне уготовано логово?

Если бы я был
маленький,
как океан,-
на цыпочки волн встал,
приливом ласкался к луне бы.
Где любимую найти мне,
Такую, как и я?
Такая не уместилась бы в крохотное небо!

О, если б я нищ был!
Как миллиардер!
Что деньги душе?
Ненасытный вор в ней.
Моих желаний разнузданной орде
не хватит золота всех Калифорний.

Если б быть мне косноязычным,
как Дант
или Петрарка!
Душу к одной зажечь!
Стихами велеть истлеть ей!
И слова
и любовь моя -
триумфальная арка:
пышно,
бесследно пройдут сквозь нее
любовницы всех столетий.

О, если б был я
тихий,
как гром,-
ныл бы,
дрожью объял бы земли одряхлевший скит.
Я если всей его мощью
выреву голос огромный,-
кометы заломят горящие руки,
бросаясь вниз с тоски.

Я бы глаз лучами грыз ночи -
о, если б был я
тусклый, как солце!
Очень мне надо
сияньем моим поить
земли отощавшее лонце!

Пройду,
любовищу мою волоча.
В какой ночи
бредовой,
недужной
какими Голиафами я зачат -
такой большой
и такой ненужный?

"Flip flop is to me perfection"

2006-01-07T19:22:00.000-05:00

It's All Gone Pete Tong

Wicked film.

Le Retour de Martin Guerre

2006-01-07T17:30:00.000-05:00

I am back in Kingston. It is snowing heavily. Dinner (and drinks?) tonight with Rochelle, Ziegler, Ryan and Corrine. Toronto was lovely, like a Canadian version of London - alluring and despicable.

" ... you're just one of those fellas who can't help but be infatuated with the post-human condition"

2006-01-04T18:33:00.000-05:00

Over the break I've been developing and refining a general idea for my thesis proposal. In a very brief nutshell:

Recent post-Singularity science fiction, by blurring the sexual, political, technological and physiological definition of "humanity" and imagining instead a multiplicity of "humanities" (transitory humanities/post-humanities), both implicitly and explicitly reflects and reformulates a number of concerns which currently dominate both feminist and queer theoretical discourse. By examining representations of post-Singularity society in contemporary science fiction, I intend to explore how these "manifestos" of a "revised" human condition, a human condition in which neither gender nor sex are "fixed", both facilitate and complicate the development of a transhumanist notion of heteroglossic sexuality (cf. Donna Haraway).

Some authors to consider: Iain M. Banks, Charles Stross, Cory Doctorow, Greg Egan, William Gibson, Ursula K. Le Guin and Brian Aldiss.

I know that this project sounds a bit rough at the moment. I do believe, however, that eventually it will be feasible. Good times, all around ;-)

Things I Wish I Were

2006-01-03T05:14:00.000-05:00

VanCity: How We Do!

2006-01-03T01:22:00.000-05:00

We went to the Royal downtown last Friday night. Here are some pictures that I stole from Julia's site.

First, the "sexy" pics:

Julia and Me. The return of the mack. Watch out Brett!

Katie, Brett and Grace. Da money shot.

Brett and Me. Attempting to make sweet love to Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom, Canada and Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith

Benny, Grace, Katie, Me, Brett. Doin' what we do.

"Now where's the woolen sweater you mentioned in the letter?"

2006-01-01T23:37:00.000-05:00

Albums that rock:

1) Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! - Self Titled Debut

Track: "Over and Over Again (Lost & Found)" ... Thanks for the tip-off Vesp

2) Ladytron - Witching Hour

Track: "International Dateline"

3) Chicks On Speed - ... Will Save Us All!

Track: "Glamour Girl"

4) The Beta Band - The Three EPs

Foil, Épée, Sabre

2005-12-31T18:14:00.000-05:00

Devin, Christine and I plan to take up fencing this term.

Why I want to fence:

1) Agility and grace. Words not commonly used to describe me.
2) Controlled release of agression. Fencing, perhaps more obviously than other sports, relieves latent agression by simulating combat.
3) Popularity amongst seventeenth-century apprentices. Fencing will allow me to more easily "command all the good lads in Eastcheap".

A Question

2005-12-30T06:51:00.000-05:00

What are your favourite album covers?

Two of mine:

1) New Order: Power, Corruption and Lies
"From my head to my toes, through my teeth, through my nose, you get these words wrong ... everytime. I just smile."

2) Belle and Sebastian: The Boy With The Arab Strap
"A central location for you is a must as you stagger about making free with your lewd and lascivious boasts. We all know you're soft 'cause we’ve all seen you dancing. We all know you're hard 'cause we've all seen you drinking from noon until noon again."

Let me know.

Rabid Desire

2005-12-29T21:27:00.000-05:00

Some work by Sarah Lucas

Black and White Bunny #1

Black and White Bunny #2

Black and White Bunny #3

Self-Portraits 1990-1998, Smoking

Lots more at the Tate Modern. I love the Tate.

Carefully Crafted Personae

2005-12-27T18:14:00.000-05:00

Blogs I read regularly:

Vesper's Escape

Christine Land Part II

cheeseandcrack

neurotic muse

What The Hell Did You Do That For?!

09/11/81 - ?

Mako

Being in limbo

Bloggy McBlogingstein

All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

2005-12-27T17:55:00.000-05:00

Girls. Boys. Art. Pleasure.

Violence. Religion. Injustice. Death. -PSB

... an avid reader, a relentless drinker and a fine hand with a .44 Magnum

2005-12-26T23:45:00.000-05:00

Well ...

Vancouver is ... still Vancouver and White Rock is ... still White Rock. It's rainy and warm. A green Christmas as always.

While isolated here, I'll be reading books and watching films obsessively.

I've been (will be) reading:

1) Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson (nascent gonzo journalism ... such promise before the mescaline rotted his brain).
2) Beyond Singularity: a collection of recent sci-fi short stories dealing with the implications/complications of life after the "Singularity", the hypothesized historical moment after which technology becomes "unpredictable" (in the vaguest sense of the word). A number of these stories function as "transhumanist maifestos" (again, in the vaguest sense). This book, hopefully, will form part of a revised thesis proposal I'll be presenting to Asha (or Glenn) sometime next term.
3) The Aleph and Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges (in/directly related to the "transhumanist" stuff mentioned above).
4) The Quare Fellow by Brendan Behan (the symptom of a long-standing love affair with late modern and contemporary Irish and Northern Irish drama).

I've been (will be) viewing:

1) Every Edward Norton film I can get my hands on:

Fight Club, American History X, Kingdom of Heaven, Down in the Valley, Death to Smoochy, Primal Fear. At the moment, I have an inexplicable homophilic attraction to Edward Norton.
2) The Cube (this was wonderful stuff which has inspired me to track down Saw).
3) Les Revenants (saw this on the shelf but chose the Cube instead. Apparently, it's a French film about the "awkward" return of the recently dead. You just can't go wrong with French Zombie love.

I've also been "touring" around the Vancouver/White Rock party scene. For those of you who know, or care, here's what a few of my old acquaintances are up to these days:

1) Matt Giesbrecht ("Geezer"): sometime Roadie. Drives a forklift by day, parties by night.
2) Jon Deagle ("The Regal Deagle"): mechanical engineer. From what I gather he designs and builds very large industrial engines for some company in Port Kells. He was almost incoherently drunk when I talked to him so this information could be "misleading".
3) Ryan Theobald ("Theo"): owns and internationally races Landyachtz, very long skateboards meant for downhill competition.
4) Blair Stewart ("Big Blair"): living in New Zealand while working with Peter Jackson. Recently finished post-production work on King Kong.
5) Ian Smith ("Fish"): working in China, presumably with his father. Our conversation seemed somehow strained.

Finally, congratulations to Heather for correctly identifying the S.P.O.C.K. quotation at the end of this post. As the self-appointed President of the C.S.S.A. (Canadian Society of S.P.O.C.K. Appreciation), I am understandably impressed.

The Son (Filius) Of Man (Hominis)

2005-12-25T01:37:00.000-05:00

Dixit itaque ei Pilatus ergo "rex es tu?" Respondit Iesus, "tu dicis quia rex sum ego. Ego in hoc natus sum et ad hoc veni in mundum ut testimonium perhibeam veritati. Omnis qui est ex veritate audit meam vocem."
Dicit ei Pilatus, "quid est veritas?" Et cum hoc dixisset iterum exivit ad Iudaeos et dicit eis, "ego nullam invenio in eo causam."

Pilate therefore said unto him, "art thou a king then?" Jesus answered, "thou sayest that I am a king. To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice."
Pilate saith unto him, "what is truth?" And when he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith unto them, "I find in him no fault at all."

Vancouver: Rain, Trees, Killer Whales and UBC

2005-12-19T15:17:00.000-05:00

From the Weather Network

Tuesday: 8C - Rain, At Times Heavy
Wednesday: 6C - Light Rain
Wednesday: 6C - Light Rain
Friday: 6C - Light Rain
Saturday: 10C - A Few Showers!
Sunday: 7C - Light Rain

Believe it or not, this picture (which I didn't take, just stole) looks past Stanley Park towards the mountains in North Van (this must have been taken somewhere near the Westin Bayshore in the West End - that yellow sulfur pile is a dead giveaway ;-). Welcome home Jason! Welcome to Vancouver, Canada's premier rainforest! Lots of trees and lots of rain.

I like the snow out here (in Ontario) much better. It's so white and cheerful!

(I did take this picture myself ... about ten minutes ago. This is the view from the front doors of Stauffer Library at Queen's University)

The Agony of Vice-Admiral James Tiberius Kirk

2005-12-19T01:57:00.000-05:00

Two hints for the quotation at the end of a Vesperine Imitation

1) "Klingon bastards, you've killed my son!" (sound clip): Star Trek III: The Search For Spock

2) "I've never trusted Klingons, and I never will. I could never forgive them for the death of my boy.": Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

Also ... Props to Christine, for discovering yet another, rather "racy", level of allusive complexity hidden in Christ's words, "Noli Me Tangere":

"Whoso list to hunt ? I know where is an hind!
But as for me, alas! I may no more,
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore;
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt
As well as I, may spend his time in vain!
And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
There is written her fair neck round about;
'Noli me tangere; for Cæsar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.'"

Thomas Wyatt (1535?)

A Vesperine Imitation

2005-12-18T12:15:00.000-05:00

I've stolen this idea from "Vesper". She, no doubt, stole it from someone else ;-)

So, without further ado: Five Things You May Or May Not Know About Me

1) I have travelled extensively. Three years ago I backpacked for three weeks with my ex in Russia (Petersburg, Novgorod, Moscow, Suzdal). Russia is a terrible and excrutiatingly beautiful place. The live bear "dancing" outside of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg made me very, very sad.

The most depressing place I've ever visited is Novgorod the Great (Великий Новгород). Everything here is faded and dead.

2) I attended the Barenaked Ladies' Christmas concert at Leeds University Union last December.

I never thought I'd see so many Leafs jerseys at once in the UK. It is still the best concert I have ever seen. This surprised me as much as it does you.

3) I cannot resist revelling in "pretense" and wallowing in dissimulations that I find both gut-wrenchingly funny and fearfully authentic (see most of the blog below). That is why I adore Ernest Hemingway and Ben Jonson, Fyodor Dostoyevsky (по-русски/in English) and Mikhail Bulgakov (по-русски/in English), Bertolt Brecht (auf Deutsch/in English) and Thomas Brussig (auf Deutsch/in English). All liars, all dead serious. I am currently a doctoral student in English because of this rather nasty fetish.

4) I intend to emigrate permanently to the United Kingdom after I finish my Ph.D. At the moment I cannot imagine myself living out the rest of my life in Canada. If I have anything to say about it, I will NEVER live in British Columbia again. To be fair though, living in Eastern Canada (Ontario) has encouraged me to revise a number of my prejudices.

5) I love dancing; "you've never seen my feet 'cause they move so fast"!

PS. If you can identify the following axiomatic quotation, you will, forever and always, be the proud recipient of my undying love and affection:

"You know ... sorry. You know, I've been flying in space for all of my life. OK, it's been quite tough sometimes, but I, I've also seen many, many places, amazing worlds and beautiful planets, so I wouldn't change this for anything else. And, uh ... and, well s-sometimes people are asking me, "why don't you settle down somewhere, relax and just take it easy?" But, I feel that I have to go on, just, I have to, because there must be more out there, more to see, more to experience, and it's like uh ... it's like uh ...

Space is the place for me to be!

Ja, sa gick jag fram till han, sa sa jag:
Ja, ge mig ett dricksglas med tequila,
o han trodde inte jag var klok."

Reminiscing Under St. Hubert's Protection

2005-12-18T01:37:00.000-05:00

Such things make me terribly nostalgic. If you've ever heard me "trouble deafe heauen with my bootlesse cries" while laughing (ironically earnest and sincere in the jest), you know why. Or you could always ask K ... if she still remembers.

"We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne."

Maybe I'll go back to it ... when I'm sixty-four ;-)

"Noli Me Tangere" ...

2005-12-17T02:24:00.000-05:00

Jesus saith unto her, "touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God".
Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and that he had spoken these things unto her.
Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, "peace be unto you".
And when he had so said, he shewed unto them his hands and his side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord.
Then said Jesus to them again, "peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you".
And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, "receive ye the Holy Ghost":
"Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained".

The Crumpled Face of God

2005-12-16T04:41:00.000-05:00

I organise.

I am appalled (in the most anxious sense of the word) at the fragile disorder of the world which surrounds me.

I structure the world incessantly and frantically. This selfish desire for structure governs everything I do. That is why I love and that is why I hate; that is why I fuck and that is why I write. I cannot even tolerate the thought of irreconcilable and muddy chaos.

The world is not as it should be, yet it is.

Westbound And Down!

2005-12-15T18:45:00.000-05:00

That's me ... DONE EVERYTHING ... for now (for a similar sense of jubilation, see this post from May)

5 papers (Theory essay, Theory journal, Johnson Longer paper, Johnson Shorter paper and Renaissance paper) written and 38 6-page second-year Shakespeare papers (if you ever mention Act 2, Scene 3 of Much Ado About Nothing around me again, I'll tear your head off ;-)
marked ... ALL IN THREE WEEKS!

Now I will read plenty of Borges and swiftly rejoin this and the last century. So long seventeenth century ... SO LONG RENAISSANCE! I do not care to know how or why "they throw their pikes so" anymore.

I am truly a machine.

Big Ups To The Politburo Standing Committee Of The Communist Party of China!

2005-12-14T22:39:00.000-05:00

I have a friend in Shanghai, in the People's Republic of China, who cannot access this blog.

I suppose they are, after all, just protecting him from himself. There's some pretty seditious stuff on this blog!

I guess I'll just put this down as Reason #437 for why I cannot STAND applied "communism" ;-)

"All I Do Is Eat And Sleep And Sing": Desperately Seeking Phoebe Giltner!

2005-12-13T01:57:00.000-05:00

Who wants to go Karaoke with me next week in Van?

Chiquitita, you and I know
How the heartaches come and they go, and the scars they’re leaving.
You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end ...
You will have no time for grieving.

"Vesper", I see you ... at the Duff' ... being "serenaded" ... by me ... in front of Vancouver's finest!

"And the puzzle will last 'till somebody will say, 'there's a lot to be done while your head is still young'"

2005-12-12T22:58:00.000-05:00

Here are some of the people, places and things I've seen since August. I've seen a lot of other things too, I just don't have pictures of them.

Kingston, Canada: Me (Jason), giving you (Jon) the double guns at Ben's Pub! Oh, Ben ... what would we do without you (Thanks Christine :-)

Kingston, Canada: Raji, Dan P., Jon and Rochelle livin' it up in Sylvia's kitchen at the departmental Christmas party.

Kingston, Canada: Johanne and Sofia; ravishing, stylish and graceful at the departmental Christmas party.

Kingston, Canada: Devin and Sonia at the departmental Christmas party. Devin's tie rocks.

Kingston, Canada: Heather, Raji, Ryan P. and Breanne at the departmental Christmas party. Porter looks pretty damn fly in this picture!

Kingston, Canada: Dan M., Heather and Rochelle at the departmental Christmas party. So many of us smoke ;-)

Kingston, Canada: Kevin and Christine at the SGPS Hallowe'en party. Christine is a notorious P.I.M.P. I think Kevin must be Jimmy Fallon from Fever Pitch.

Kingston: Sofia and Jordana at the SGPS. Sofia is a Hungarian shepherdess (she had an awesome whip!) and Jordana is a flamenco dancer.

Kingston, Canada: The JDUC at Queen's University. This is where I study (and live).

Leeds, England: Michel and Oli at the Wendyhouse (the Leeds goth night) for my going-away party. Good times.

Performing Masculinity

2005-12-10T02:51:00.000-05:00

A number of graduate students (Ph.D and M.A.) from the English Department at Queen's University (from left to right: Devin, Ryan P., Ian, Dan P., Raji, Eric, Jason (aka "me"), Dan M., Ryan M., Jon, Lindsey).

This is our "game day" photo for the hockey team ;-)

There sure are a lot of men studying English!

Sylvia's Christmas Party (the Snowflake Gala) was lovely.

"Baleful"

2005-12-08T02:01:00.000-05:00

"[f]or now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate"

A conf/cession on behalf of the beautiful corpses

2005-12-03T00:28:00.000-05:00

Even though she had taken such drastic measures, Elizabeth's hair never did stop growing.

"When the real is no longer what it used to be, nostalgia assumes its full meaning."

Lesson 11: How To Stop Time's Triumphal Progress

2005-12-02T19:35:00.000-05:00

Below are some of the people, places and things I saw between August '04 and August '05. They follow one another in roughly chronological order. Assume my disembodied eyes and examine decontextualised portions of my life.

Vancouver, Canada: Brett, Benny and Ed - chillin' at the House

Vancouver, Canada: Me and Brett - chillin' at the House

Vancouver, Canada: Me and Beto - paying our respects to the Aquarium at the Staff Party

Vancouver, Canada: Behind Buchanan Tower at UBC - I stood here and smoked before class

Vancouver, Canada: Buchanan Courtyard at UBC - always so cheerfully wet

Vancouver, Canada: The basement of Main Library at UBC - this was my "spot" for 5 years

London, England: International Students House - these are all my worldly possessions ... I'm not kidding

Edinburgh, Scotland: Office juniors walking down Queensferry St

Edinburgh, Scotland: Dean Bridge - on my old route to work

Edinburgh, Scotland: Raeburn Place in Stockbridge - Alli and I lived for a year in the flat above Ming's and the Post Office

Edinburgh, Scotland: At the Bailey in Stockbridge - Emma, Phil and David doing what they do best

York, England: The Shambles - This Tudor street was the inspiration for Harry Potter's Diagon Alley

York, England: York Minster - miraculously saved from the Cromwellian scourge by the Parliamentarian General Sir Thomas Fairfax, a native of York

Leeds, England: Thornville Mount - this was the view from my doorway

Leeds, England: Inside 2 Thornville Mount - this was my pathetically small room (note the sexy bunk-bed)

Leeds, England: Katarina and Paul (two of my flatmates) - in Paul's room

The Duke of Harewoods Estate, England: Sheep tending the graves

The Duke of Harewood's Estate, England: A landscape "designed" by Capability Brown

Conwy, Wales: Conwy Castle in North Wales - built by the English King Edward "Longshanks" in 1289 and "renovated" by the Victorians

Paris, France: Consulting our map in la Place du Parvis de Notre-Dame

Paris, France: Cruising along the Seine with Alli

Paris, France: Me sitting in the Northern Renaissance wing of the Louvre - I'm pretty sure that's a Rubens to the right of my head

Edinburgh, Scotland: Phil, Alli and Billy - another drunken night at Bar Sirius in Leith

Oxford, England: The Clarendon Building at the Bodleian Library - Admissions

Oxford, England: The Old Schools' Quardrangle - The Duke Humphreys Room (where I consulted a number of manuscripts) is upstairs. James I and VI (1603-25) commissioned the statue out front

Valencia, Spain: An old bridge over the dry riverbed

Benicassim, Spain: Looking out at the melancholy sea while the sun set behind me - I was reading Gormenghast alone on the beach

Valencia, Spain: A typical Valenciano street somewhere in the western part of the city

Manchester, England: Me and Michel in front of the Manchester Council building - Manchester is a wonderful city

Edinburgh, Scotland: Phil, Benny and Brett at Bar Sirius in Leith - Brett and Benny are representin'

Leeds, England: Michel, Helen, Ryan and Varsha at the departmental "marks party" - the English department provided us with wine after publicly posting our final results for the MA

Nottingham, England: Helen standing in front of "the Lion" - It was very, very hot that day

Whitby, England: The ruins of Whitby Abbey -The Synod of Whitby (which established that Roman , rather than Celtic, Christianity was the only appropriate form of worship in the British Isles) took place here in 664. An angel also told Caedmon, the "first" English poet, to "sing me hwathwugu" here around the same time.

Whitby, England: Donkeys on the beach - The British enjoy riding donkeys when they go to the seaside

Leeds, England: Me, Michel and Ryan at Graduation - If I could, I would dress like this every day

South Queensferry, Scotland: A two-tiered street in a small town to the west of Edinburgh - I had just come back from the ruins of Inchcolm Abbey (situated on a small island nearby)

Sachesenhausen Konzentrationslager (concentration camp), Germany: The camp's guardhouse - Sachsenhausen was a Nazi (and later Soviet) concentration infamous for its medical experiments. The Soviets actually murdered more people here than the Nazis did

Sachesenhausen Konzentrationslager (concentration camp), Germany: The guardhouse gate -"Arbeit macht frei" (Work sets you free) was an Nazi ideological slogan which justified the concentration camps

Sachesenhausen Konzentrationslager (concentration camp), Germany: Cement blocks mark the location of demolished barracks

Sachesenhausen Konzentrationslager (concentration camp), Germany: Three reconstructed "hanging poles" - Prisoners were hung for hours (or even days) at a time from these poles with their arms tied behind their backs. This dislocated the shoulders immediately. The Soviets also practiced this method of punishment

Berlin, Germany: Benny with three lovely Irish lasses from Cork - "Mackin' the bitches"

Berlin, Germany: The former Nazi Luftwaffe (airforce) Headquarters designed by Albert Speer - Now the German Ministry of Finance

London, England: The reading room in the former British Library (part of the British Museum)- Karl Marx wrote Das Kapital in this room.

Leeds, England: Entrance to the Brotherton Library at the University of Leeds - Jason Bourget wrote his renowned analysis of the "Commons Petition" here

Leeds, England: The School of English at the University of Leeds

Leeds, England: An average afternoon on the Headrow

Leeds, England: Hyde Park - This was on my walk home

Leeds, England: Royal Park Road - This was also on my walk home. The school to the left is abandoned

My life has since continued. Someday soon I'll show you what I see now.

Silence

2005-11-30T16:06:00.000-05:00

It's so quiet around me sometimes. And silent.

Tulse Luper

2005-11-29T23:30:00.000-05:00

J, Watson L, and Trix win!

1.
2..
3...
4....
5.....
6......
7.......
8........
9.........
10..........
11...........
-----------x-----------
11...........
10..........
9.........
8........
7.......
6......
5.....
4....
3...
2..
1.

11 x 11 = 121

2005-11-28T02:32:00.000-05:00

Who is this man?

Some hints:

1) He did not want to meet himself in a dark alley

2) He always denied he was involved in any surrealist activity

3) He hated washing cups but enjoyed drying plates

4) He shaved his testicles once a month in front of the bathroom mirror. He stood on a chair

5) Not knowing what else experiences were for, he turned all of them into some form of literature. Even whilst having a heart attack, he was wondering how to spell the word "cardiac"

6) He only took his white dogs out at night. His black dogs had to be exercised by day

7) He argued that there was no such colour as blue. Blue in the sky is an illusion. The sky is not an object, but an empty space which, as everyone knows from the phenomenon of night and countless space odysseys, is black. Since the sea is a reflection of the sky, its blueness too is an illusion - worse - an illusion of an illusion

8) He wanted to cut off his deceased wife's vagina so he could look at it whenever he wanted to. He thought it was a terrible waste of the most beautiful vagina he had ever seen. He thought it was bold, big, embracing, and gripped him like an octopus

9) He opened his mail with a butcher's knife, if only to give drama to his post. The correspondence he received was dull. But at least the knife had slaughtered, had taken life, had killed

10) He masturbated to the tune of Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante K364, using his prick like a violin bow

11) He insisted on living in houses and apartments where the numbers on the doors had to be divisible by three

I promise a reward worthy of the man himself if you can answer this question!

Reconfiguring Pullet ...

2005-11-28T02:14:00.000-05:00

"And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all' -
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

"And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'"

Apt Words from an Old Friend

2005-11-25T21:47:00.000-05:00

"Good brother Phillip I have forborne you long,
I was content you should in favour creepe,
While craftely you seemed your Cut to keepe,
As though that faire soft hand did you great wrong:
I beare with envy, yet I heare your song,
When in hir necke you did love ditties peepe,
Nay, (more foole I) oft suffred you to sleepe,
In lillies nest where Loves selfe lies along,
What? doth high place ambitious thoughts augment?
Is saucines reward of curtesie?
Cannot such grace your silly selfe content,
But you must needes with those lips billing be?
And through those lips drinke Nectar from that tung,
Leave that Syr Phillip lest your necke be wrung."

I could do with another trip to la Comunitat Valenciana.

The Exquisite and Subtle Pleasures of Intellectual Self-flagellation

2005-11-21T01:41:00.000-05:00

5 essays. Less than a month.

What can I say, I'm a masochist. Academia is all about self-debasement :-)

This is my last year of coursework ... thank God. Come May, I'll finally be able to say things like:

"I'm still fleshing out ideas for my thesis."
"Of course I'm busy, I'm studying for comps!"
"Well, I don't really have anything definite yet ..."

I can't wait!

Oil Thigh Na Banrighinn; or, Long Live Queen's!

2005-11-15T21:48:00.000-05:00

Just had to share my joy!

I'm writing a Renaissance paper right now (I promise ... I'll be leaving this period after this term) and I just realised that Queen's has access to two journals that Leeds didn't:

Cahiers Elisabethain
Parergon

This is not the only place where Leeds' library is lacking. Yes, Brotherton ... I mean you; you made me very angry last year :-(

Yeah Queen's! Yeah first-class research library!

Sed magis tumultus fieret accepta aqua lavit manus coram populo dicens innocens ego sum a sanguine iusti huius ...

2005-11-06T15:25:00.000-05:00

Just thought I ought to remind you all that

I LOVE THIS FILM!

That's right ... in my opinion this is 'the' best musical ever made. Intense tunes (think of Judas' opening number, his Betrayal and any of Pilate's songs), catchy cabaret (King Herod's dance), hippies ("what's the buzz, tell me what's happening" and the only spoken line in the movie; Simon Zealotes to Judas: "Hey, cool it man"), and a fantastic closing number involving Judas, sequins, scantily clad angels (demons?) and anachronistic references to Islam; all while (faithfully) SINGING (a version) of the Gospel (I'm pretty sure Weber was drawing primarily from the Gospels of John and Matthew). Also, along with Master and Margarita, this is one of the most sympathetic portrayals of Pilate.

Compare Bulgakov's:

"'He says one and the same thing,' Woland replied. `He says that even the moon gives him no peace, and that his is a bad job. That is what he always says when he is not asleep, and when he sleeps, he dreams one and the same thing: there is a path of moonlight, and he wants to walk down it and talk with the prisoner Ha-Nozri, because, as he insists, he never finished what he was saying that time, long ago, on the fourteenth day of the spring month of Nisan. But, alas, for some reason he never manages to get on to this path, and no one comes to him. Then there's no help for it, he must talk to himself. However, one does need some diversity, and to his talk about the moon he often adds that of all things in the world, he most hates his immortality and his unheard-of fame."

"-- Он говорит, -- раздался голос Воланда, -- одно и то же, он говорит, что и при луне ему нет покоя и что у него плохая должность. Так говорит он всегда, когда не спит, а когда спит, то видит одно и то же -- лунную дорогу, и хочет пойти по ней и разговаривать с арестантом Га-Ноцри, потому, что, как он утверждает, он чего-то не договорил тогда, давно, четырнадцатого числа весеннего месяца нисана. Но, увы, на эту дорогу ему выйти почему-то не удается, и к нему никто не приходит. Тогда, что же поделаешь, приходится разговаривать ему с самим собою. Впрочем, нужно же какое-нибудь разнообразие, и к своей речи о луне он нередко прибавляет, что более всего в мире ненавидит свое бессмертие и неслыханную славу."

To Pilate's agonised scream in the song, "Trial Before Pilate".

Ben (Variations on Ziegler) and the Toucan

2005-11-04T18:00:00.000-05:00

This is Ben (or, rather, a cheesy, artistic fascimile of him). He owns a pub that attracts a variety of English graduate students from Queen's University. We can often be found enjoying his beer on Friday, along with the guy in the chair by the bar. Unfortunately, Ben's arrival, like the fuck-off lights in a club or that big loud guy at the Royal Oak in Hyde Park, inevitably heralds last call. We both love (since he's furry and friendly) and hate Ben (since he prevents us from further conversing with Bacchus). Once Ben has retired for the evening, we often make our way down the Street (there is really only one street in Kingston) to visit our beloved town's most famous feathery friend, the Toucan:

Unlike Ben, this servant of Dionysius has no sense of pride. He always smells like stale beer, dispenses "Irish" porter that has a tendency to unsettle the stomach and rudely kicks you out with very little ceremony around 2:30am. He is friends with a number of unpleasant undergraduates and is also rather sticky.

Needless to say, we like Ben more.

Shout Out!

2005-11-02T15:38:00.000-05:00

Big up to Travis, Kristen, Rochelle, Kevin and Julia!

My readers, who attempt to decipher this blog (semi-)regularly.

Props to my peeps ... peace.

What Am I Talking About?

2005-11-02T14:25:00.000-05:00

Name the character and book alluded to below (this should be easy if you've ever heard me talk about it before)!

First off ...

Алли,

Бог только знает, об ты читаешь этот блог ....
Если да, у меня намек тебе.

Помни о этом ресторане на Патриарших прудах и гангстерах!
(Мне очень жаль по моему плохому, русскому языку ;-)

For the rest of you:

Behold now behemoth, which I made with thee; he eateth grass as an ox.
Lo now, his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his belly.
He moveth his tail like a cedar: the sinews of his stones are wrapped together.
His bones are as strong pieces of brass; his bones are like bars of iron.
He is the chief of the ways of God: he that made him can make his sword to approach unto him.
Surely the mountains bring him forth food, where all the beasts of the field play.
He lieth under the shady trees, in the covert of the reed, and fens.
The shady trees cover him with their shadow; the willows of the brook compass him about.
Behold, he drinketh up a river, and hasteth not: he trusteth that he can draw up Jordan into his mouth.
He taketh it with his eyes: his nose pierceth through snares.

25 Seconds Reminiscing

2005-10-27T00:26:00.000-04:00

Looking upstream from a bridge over the Volkhov; cold, wet feet, sore throat and an oily hotel room.
A nudge walking down towards the city on a warm April night.
Flourescent poutine and nonsense.
Criticising commercials on the couch, avoiding sleep and intimacy.
A Spanish beach without tourists in the fading light; dead eyes and shade and day.
Rain in a parking lot, slightly drunk in the dead of January, fighting over nothing.
An orange room; an affectionate, pretty girl (and a cat).
Frozen, dripping ice and fever, at the back of a boat passing beneath romantic bridges; whinging.
Empty room, sweat on my pained back, thinking it 's "damn hot" beside this lake.
A bench in London, crying at 3am (11am).
Backwards glance at Broughton Street on an unpleasantly warm spring day, a hand in the 5th story window by a dog.
Flopping hair over loose, intoxicated glasses; trudging through Northern grass at dawn.
Eyes that sparkle and sink backwards.

Thus Spake Jack!

2005-10-17T01:35:00.000-04:00

"But O alas, so long, so farre
Our bodies why doe wee forbeare?
They are ours, though not wee, Wee are
The intelligences, they the spheares.

We owe them thankes, because they thus,
Did us, to us, at first convay,
Yeelded their senses force to us,
Nor are drosse to us, but allay.

To'our bodies turne wee then, that so
Weake men on love reveal'd may looke;
Loves mysteries in soules doe grow,
But yet the body is his booke.

So to'entergraft our hands, as yet
Was all the meanes to make us one,
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.

Our hands were firmely cimented
With a fast balme, which thence did spring,
Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred
Our eyes, upon one double string,

And whil'st our soules negotiate there,
Wee like sepulchrall statues lay,
All day, the same our postures were,
And wee said nothing, all the day."

Human

2005-10-15T03:49:00.000-04:00

I love being human!

Lil' Markie?!?!?!?!

2005-10-12T20:54:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Christian Fundamentalist Foetuscore!

My friend Julia just sent me the most fucked up video and audio clip I've heard and seen in a while. It's Lil' Markie! a full grown man who pretends to be a foetus describing his development until his heathen mother MURDERS him! Here's a LIVE clip:

Lil' Markie: Live In Miami - "I Am Fearfully Made"

I don't know what's more disturbing: "Mark's" seemless transformation into Lil' Markie or his AUDIENCE. I always figured they got up to stuff like this when the cameras are turned off at the Crystal Cathedral. I am so disturbed ...

The Importance of Being Pullet Ruse

2005-10-12T02:50:00.000-04:00

"[i]t is rather the beholder who lends to the beautiful thing its myriad meanings, and makes it marvellous for us, and sets it in some new relation to the age, so that it becomes a vital portion of our lives, and symbol of what we pray for, or perhaps of what, having prayed for, we fear that we may receive."

Pullet Ruse?

2005-10-09T02:08:00.000-04:00

Who indeed is Pullet Ruse? A frabjous thing really. Uffish and just a little manxome. Often exclaiming, with some passion, "Gee! Nay reap trew!"

Sir Philip Sidney knows. Though he's much less subtle, he is still a rich fool.

Re-Made: to my PULLET RUSE!

2005-10-08T02:37:00.000-04:00

"And I have known the arms already, known them all -
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all' -
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the windowpanes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of toast and tea."

Curry in Kingston

2005-10-07T18:14:00.000-04:00

Finally, I'm about to sample Kingston's curry. How will it compare to the Grove? I just finished a hell week. Started TA'ing a second-year Shakespeare class (I have office hours now ... how professional :-) and was up until 2am working on a seminar last night. I really need some Lamb Madras. Washed down by cold lager (if only they had the drink of curry champions, Carling).

Revelation

2005-09-29T18:55:00.000-04:00

Two things happened today:

1) Fall came to Kingston. Yesterday it was summer, today it's fall.
2) I realised that I am falling for 'Theory'. For those of you who know me this may come as some surprise. Reading Foucault's 'The Archaeology of Knowledge', however, was something of a revelatory experience for me. It basically traced out the 'literary enterprise' as I've known it for the past couple of years; that is, that 'English' is often the attempt to objectively analyse 'discourse formations' in their appropriate context, particulary those which are examples of 'subjugated knowledge' (welcome to Renaissance Studies from the 70s to the present). For instance, why did my MA dissertation last year discuss the anonymous satire, The Commons Petition, in terms of satirical manuscript communities and why is this important? Because, in order to better understand Renaissance texts, it is necessary to examine a variety of textual material and not just that which appeared in print. Manuscripts, which constituted the majority of the elite's reading material, have been academically neglected in favour of the relatively few books that were published during the same period. In other words, the value of my dissertation lay not in the discovery of a new poem, but rather in its examination of a neglected aspect of late Jacobean discourse formation. What scared me most though is that reading Foucault elicited my intellectual curiousity more than The Commons Petition ever did. Like I say, I've had somewhat of a revelation. Who would have thought ...

The Essence of Leeds

2005-09-05T17:29:00.000-04:00

How can you not love a city where the monuments are updated by the citizens themselves?

K-Town Rocks But I Still Miss LS6

2005-09-03T14:54:00.000-04:00

Things I Like About Queen's So Far

1) I feel far more 'Canadian' here than in Vancouver (but less than in Britain).
2) The Frosh wear matching Orientation shirts (Freshers in the UK).
3) Tim Hortons, lots of Tim Hortons (I live above one).
4) The M.A. program 'feeds' the Ph.D. program. M.A.'s, who are simply considered future Ph.D's, are less excluded from the wider English postgraduate community than in Leeds.
5) Pizza Pizza (Yeah, Ontario's #1 Pizza Company).
6) One tap provides both hot AND cold water.
7) The campus looks like UBC built with style (concrete monstrosities from the 60s and 70s have been kept to a minimum and there are lots of tastefully designed limestone buildings).
8) Buttered popcorn at the theatre (went to see 40 Year Old Virgin last night).
9) The Toronto Maple Leafs ... GO LEAFS GO!!!! (that's right Ed, Benny, Brett and Gibbons, you gotta come kick my ass now ... no Brent Sopel for the Canucks, no Canucks for me :-)

Things I Miss About Leeds

1) No one has called me 'luv' for almost two weeks ... I feel so unwanted :-(
2) The extended Yorkshire subjunctive (i.e. 'He were sat at the bus stop for over an hour').
2) Kebabs (in Kingston 'donairs' consist of beef, cheese and chips smothered in sweet yoghurt).
3) Money that feels substantial and real.
4) The beer ... all of it ... even Carling.
5) Smoking in pubs (can't legally smoke within 9 metres of a public building here in Kingston ... think I'll be quitting soon).
6) Chavs (Scallies, Neds, Townies etc).
7) Channel Four's documentaries during primetime (i.e. Victorians: The Worst Jobs In History at 7pm Saturday).
8) A 1400 year old architectural masterpiece 1/2 away by train (York Minster).
9) Edinburgh and the Scottish. Three hours by train from Leeds.

Want To See Jason?

2005-08-26T14:43:00.000-04:00

Right now I'm back in Van for a couple of days. If you want to see me, come to my Welcome Back / Farewell Party tomorrow night (August 27) at 8pm at:

The Yaletown Brewing Co.
1111 Mainland Street
Vancouver B.C.

Hope to see you there!

The Portrait of Mr. W.H.

2005-08-16T18:37:00.000-04:00

I've just come face to face with genius. 'The Portrait of Mr. W.H.' by Oscar Wilde is quite possibly the most clever short story I have ever read. Couched within a narrative where the character's allegiance to parts of the analysis shift as the story progresses, Wilde examines two theories concerning the true identity of Mr. W.H., the individual to whom Shakespeare's Sonnets are dedicated. It seems that Wilde, like Orwell, was one hell of an engaging essayist. It's no wonder that he was such a renowned conversationalist as well. Well worth the read.

How doth our sister Duchess bear herself in her imprisonment?

2005-08-16T16:43:00.000-04:00

This year I took a module entitled 'Renaissance Drama in Performance'. Not surpisingly, as part of our evaluation for that seminar we actually had to perform something. Varsha, Fuyuko and I chose to perform the 'dead hand' scene (IV.1) from John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi. Preceding a discussion with our markers about the advantages and disadvantages of indoor and outdoor playing in the Renaissance, we played the scene twice; first inside, in an acting space in the drama department, and then outdoors, in the 'natural amphitheatre' outside of the Roger Stevens building. Below are some pictures taken during our dress rehearsal the day before the performance.

Me as the Duchess

Varsha as Bosola (Ferdinand's scheming servant)

Fuyuko as Ferdinand (my brother) and me as the Duchess

Is it any wonder Antonio fell in love with the Duchess? Perhaps it's because:

She 's sad as one long us'd to 't, and she seems
Rather to welcome the end of misery
Than shun it; a behaviour so noble
As gives a majesty to adversity:
You may discern the shape of loveliness
More perfect in her tears than in her smiles:
She will muse for hours together; and her silence,
Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake.

Or maybe it's just her startling good looks.

Fancy Ultra Fresh XP

2005-08-16T10:43:00.000-04:00

If you're tired of the boring default Windows XP theme, then why not try the recently released and much classier one for XP Media Center Edition. For some unknown reason Microsoft New Zealand recently released this theme which was previously only available for Media Center XP and Tablet XP. Here's a comparison between the default theme Luna and the new theme Royale:

Luna

Royale

Trust me, Royale looks a lot better. Find it on:

Microsoft's site

After you've unzipped the file (right click and choose 'Extract all' or something similar), just right-click on your desktop and select properties. Then click on the tab marked Appearance. Go to the pull down menu Windows and Buttons and select Media Center style. Click apply and you're done.

N.B. Use Internet Explorer to download the file. Also, your copy of Windows needs to be 'legal'. If for some reason it isn't, just Google genuine advantage disable javascript and check out the inexpensive solution to this 'problem'. This also allows your computer to receive updates again if it hasn't been doing so recently.

Radio Stereotyping

2005-08-15T15:50:00.000-04:00

I love the 'ideal listener' targeted by commercial radio. I absolutely adore how each DJ must construct their own listener to address. For instance, over the last 10 years Brother Jake from Vancouver's Rock 101 has decided that everyone is really a slightly dim-witted testosterone-crazed middle-aged man who's passionate about hockey, cars and girls from Hooters. Hursty from Leeds' Galaxy 105, on the other hand, thinks everyone who listens to his show is a reformed chav who lives in Barnsley and parties it up in Leeds every Friday without fail. Fantastic! I love stereotyping! It's what makes radio worth listening to. Like reader-response theorists engaged in some crazy on-air experiment. What follows are my own fictionalised impressions of each station's 'ideal listener':

Galaxy 105: Yorkshire's Best Dance and R 'n' B!

DJs: Hirsty, Danny, Jo-Jo and Matt Wilkinson etc

James is 26. He works as a low-ranking office assistant in Leeds. He never works on the weekend and dreams all week long about Friday. A couple of years ago he was a student at Leeds Met but left after first-year to 'do his own thing'. He lives where he grew up in Barnsley, a 'lovely' town to the south of Leeds. During his youth he was a chav but has since reformed and now feels a 'healthy' hatred for them (he has, however, retained a chavvy taste in music, hence Galaxy). Every Friday he skives off while working so that he can ring Hursty (or Hursty's sidekicks, Danny and Jo-Jo) and tell him about how slaughtered he's going to get this weekend. He has a very thick Yorkshire accent (enough for Jo-Jo to take the mickey out of him) and says 'how do?' when Hirsty answers the phone. Friday night means three things to James; leaving Barnsley to come clubbing in the 'big city' of Leeds, drunken yelling in the middle of the Headrow and pulling. This Friday, although he gets very drunk, he is nevertheless successful and manages to pull his fit new flatmate. On Saturday morning, while very hungover and listening to Galaxy's chilled out tunes, he vows not to go into Leeds that night, resolving to only get partially pissed in Barnsley or Wakefield instead (don't worry, Galaxy will repeatedly tell him what's going on there). During his phone call to Matt Wilkinson (Hursty is always hungover on Saturday) James recounts to all of West Yorkshire how he shagged his flatmate the night before ... hope she's not listening! Once the sun has set, James' hangover's gone and he's ready to hit the clubs again. In Barnsley (the 'White Rock' of Yorkshire) 'the' club is hosting everyone's favourite fancy dress night, OLD SKOOL DISCO. That's right, it's time for James to put on his ugly old school tie and ill-fitting white shirt so that he can party it up with all the ladies in their obscenely short and oddly proportioned skirts and stretched school blouses. Rather than taking it easy on the booze like he planned, James actually gets drunker tonight than he did in Leeds. As the sun comes up on Sunday morning, while James is waking up next to some slapper from Shipley, all he can remember is doing shots of tequila, eating two kebabs and asking the cabbie 'how long till he's off shift'. He immediately calls Hursty, who's doing the Top 40 show this morning, and gives him an account of the night's adventures. On Sunday James takes it easy watching football, drinking old beer and Jagermeister and listening to Galaxy all day. He is however very sad that Monday's coming round again shortly. His job is his prison and he hates it passionately. It's only during his drunken weekends that James feels somewhat liberated.

Rock 101: Vancouver's Home of Classic Rock!

DJs: Bro Jake, Dean and Hatch, Marty the something? etc

Rick (Ricky to his wife and mom) is 38. He's a mid-level business exec at an insurance firm downtown. He's always loved ROCK and wishes he'd seen the 60s as an adult rather than an infant. Rick lives in the 'scenic' suburb of Poco to the north-east of Vancouver. Although he grew up in Vancouver, he doesn't live there anymore ... those damn Chinese have taken over! Rick loves three things in life: hockey, cars and women (in that order). For Rick, hockey is what makes life worth living. Although Rick doesn't condone Bertuzzi's actions, he still supports him 100%; he is after all central to the Canucks' success. On weekends Rick works on restoring the shit-heap '74 El Dorado in his garage. Someday, when he can afford an engine, that beauty'll ride again. On Saturday night Rick likes to go to Hooters with his buddies and leave the wife and kids at home. Sometimes they furtively hit the Penthouse at the end of the evening ('what the wife don't know ain't gonna kill her'). On Sundays he likes to do work around the house; this weekend he's cleaning the gutters while listening to Rock 101. Randy Bachman's guest DJing the 'Great Canadian Rock Weekend' with Bro Jake. This helps Rick 'Take Care of Business' in his own garden. Although it's Monday tomorrow, Rick doesn't mind. He doesn't hate his job, it's just a little boring. All in all he's pretty content.

Ah radio stereotypes ... such excellent fodder for my own social prejudices.

This is ... SPINAL TAP!

2005-08-02T19:07:00.000-04:00

The bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin
That's what I said.
The looser the waistband, the deeper the quicksand
Or so I have read.
My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo.
I love to sink her with my pink torpedo.

I love Spinal Tap. Such lyrical beauty and sophistication. As Derek says (the little guy who bears an uncanny resemblance to the Village People's Leatherman), 'David and Nigel are both like, uh, like poets you know like Shelley or Byron, or people like that.' Class. I bet Napoleon Dynamite is a big fan.

You Know You're From Britain When...

2005-08-02T05:32:00.000-04:00

After seeing the 'You know you're from BC' quiz on Kristen's blog, I thought I'd post the one for Britain. Some of my favourites are:

Coming to work with a hangover is entirely accepted and indeed expected at least once a week.

A day at the beach means wearing the warmest clothes you own while standing on golf ball-size pebbles and the thought of swimming doesn't even enter your head.

A sunny lunchtime means searching for a patch of grass and stripping off practically down to your underwear

You believe that every American is a fatass addicted to hamburgers and hotdogs.

You've accepted queuing as a way of life.

Well, here you go:

You Know You're From Britain When... You believe that Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday are all good nights for drinking. Sunday day is also entirely reasonable.

You're always a half an hour late to work ... no-one notices or cares.

Coming to work with a hangover is entirely accepted and indeed expected at least once a week.

You can actually give directions to some of those annoying tourists in Oxford Street!

You step over a drunk in the tube station rather than offering to help them.

You don't even bother looking out of the window when you get up in the morning to check what the day is like. You know it is overcast.

You consider a suit to be normal attire for the pub.

You expect men to actually cut, comb and style their hair (using hair products). And to wear decent clothes.

You dissolve in laughter when listening to the funny accent of the Aussie international telephone operator (or on TV!).

You think 40 pounds for a haircut is quite reasonable.

You can't remember what 'customer service' means.

After a big night out you find yourself looking for a Curry house

More than three hours sunlight on summer days seems excessive.

You don't think twice about tipping your hairdresser

You finish every sentence with 'Cheers' or 'Yeah'.

You only just realise you have lost your sunnies, you left them in Greece 2 summers ago.

You like English cuisine. I mean, it's hard to beat a full English breakfast.

You are on to your 6th umbrella and your second overcoat... this year

You've bought a disposable baby BBQ from Tesco.

A day at the beach means wearing the warmest clothes you own while standing on golf ball-size pebbles and the thought of swimming doesn't even enter your head.

You always call soccer football and you have a team and it's not Manchester United.

You don't think twice about buying a packaged sandwich.

A sunny lunchtime means searching for a patch of grass and stripping off practically down to your underwear

You've accepted queuing as a way of life.

You believe that every American is a fatass addicted to hamburgers and hotdogs.

You despise the French (but then, who doesn't?).

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Britan.

Nunc Sum Magister Artae!

2005-07-13T16:53:00.000-04:00

That's right. As of today I am officially a Master of the Arts (of English Renaissance Literature). In September I start on the road towards becoming a Doctor of Philosophy. To mark this momentous occasion I have changed my profile photo. Check it out and bow down before your new Master!

Terrorists Are Cowards

2005-07-07T08:15:00.000-04:00

According to the Guardian, as of of 1:37pm BST, 'at least seven explosions ripped through London's transport system'. Sir Ian Blair, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, confirmed that there were explosions in the Tube at or close to Edgware Road, King's Cross, Aldgate East, Liverpool Street, Russell Square and Moorgate. The top was also blown off a bus at Tavistock Sqaure:

There are over 150 people wounded and an unconfirmed number dead. I pass through all of these stations regularly when I go to London. I might very well be dead if I had been down visiting friends this week. The people who did this are cowards, plain and simple. They gave no warning and targeted innocent people rather than any 'political' target. At least the IRA, although I don't condone their actions, had the decency to give half hour warnings before a bomb went off. Just because the political system has failed them, these people feel they have the right to murder. I can think of no way to justify these actions. Faceless, murdering cowards.

PS. Michel is fine. Normally he passes through Liverpool Street but had to stay home emailing applications today.

Summer of Theory 2005

2005-07-06T14:12:00.000-04:00

I have come to the realization that my attitude towards 'Literary Theory' is narrow-minded and ill-informed. To remedy this I have decided to initiate my own self-taught 'Summer of Theory 2005'. Before I hit Kingston this September, I want to have at least scraped the surface of all that 'Theory' that we in the Renaissance have a knack for ignoring (except, of course, the all-pervasive New Historicism / Cultural Materialism kind). I would appreciate any key (vital, profound, inspiring, insulting) texts you might be able to suggest. I'll consider anything you throw at me.

The Ugliest Building Ever!

2005-07-06T13:59:00.000-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I love Manchester. Those Mancunians from over the Pennines are an entertaining bunch and their city's a little bit like London if it were smaller and stuck in the Grim North. Although Leeds wins hands down when it comes to ugly post-war architecture (ah ... the Merrion Centre), Manchester still puts up a damn good fight. Like many other Northern cities, Manchester combines some of the ugliest buildings ever built with some of the most beautiful. I blame this on World War II bombing (the Luftwaffe wasn't exactly aiming to preserve the architectural marvels of Britain) and a small number of **cough**visionary and innovative**cough** architects from the 60s. As well as the infamous Arndale Centre, Manchester prominently showcases the 'hotel' pictured below:

This architectural masterpiece also incorporates a bus station (how useful!) and sit directly across the street from a gorgeous Victorian hotel. It's like part of the city from Blade Runner got lost and ended up in Northern England. Crazy architects.