Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true

So, I screened Monty Python's Life of Brian in class today. Wasn't excommunicated or burned at the stake, so I'll take that as a good sign. Of course, my student evaluation was given about 30 minutes after the films ended so if they wanted to blast me as a heretic or blasphemer I suppose they had that outlet too. But the discussion about the film was quite productive. People who have hardly said word one spoke up. Maybe next year I'll just teach Monty Python films.

Also, I have discovered a rather serious flaw in the whole Slow Club thing. I don't know if this is going to be a "might-as-well-pack-SC-in" flaw, but it'll take some figuring out. What do I do with people who are going slower than I want to go? I was in the bookstore at Prov this afternoon and there was a herd of elderly people shuffling along at a snail's pace. Whenever I'd get to the end of an aisle, where I could change my course and take a different path, there was another old person, cane in hand, shuffling in front of me. They were everywhere. Now I'm trying quite hard to incorporate this whole "slow down and enjoy the journey", but behind these octogenarians it was more "stand stationary". Maybe I'm not cut out for the whole Slow Club.

I was doing quite well with it too. I took my time driving to work today. Instead of doing 120 km down the 75, I drove the speed limit. Instead of cutting down sketchy dirt roads, I drove all the way out to the 59 and took paved roads to Otterburne. Sure it took an extra 10 minutes, but who cares? I wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of the car ride. And then I run into the old people! Perhaps I should just avoid nursing homes, flea markets and McDonalds in the day time.

Your Deadly Sins

Sloth: 40%

Envy: 20%

Greed: 20%

Lust: 20%

Gluttony: 0%

Pride: 0%

Wrath: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14%

You will die while sleeping - and no one will notice.

How Sinful Are You?

No one will notice? Ouch. That's my biggest fear. Seriously. I mean, people forget about me and I'm still alive.

I had to phone someone so I picked on you

I've been trying to hammer out the prelimanary details of this brand new course I'll be teaching at Booth College next year. I was told it could be whatever I wanted, so my imagination's racing (kind of working against the whole Slow Club thing, I know). I love the freedom that affords me. I need to come up with a pithy title by the end of the week in order to be included in the course listings for early enrollment. I find the whole process exciting.

Showed an episode of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" today in class. Partly it was meant as break, partly to illustrate postmodernism. A few people skipped, so maybe there'll be a pointed Buffy question on the final. Overall people seemed to like it, I think. Tough to say. In the post-screening discussion there wasn't much... well, discussion. Hmmmm.

And the girls down by the strip tease show go

This weekend I went to a monastery for four days of quiet and peace. And I learned something very important. Actually I learned all kinds of wonderful things, but I think the best, or at least the easiest to communiate to other peoples, was that I learned to join the "Slow Club."

You see, there's a boy named Joseph who created something he called the Slow Club when he was just 5 years old. Even at five this little boy realized that the world moved far too fast. People were always in a hurry; rushing here, rushing there. Deadlines, appointments. Joseph didn't think this was a good way to life one's life.

To join the Slow Club is apparently pretty simple: you need to slow down. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

Take your time.

Look at your surroundings.

Appreciate the things around you: the melting snow, the bugs, the trees.

Now I'm learning how to view walks not so much as functional things (getting from point A to point B) but adventures.

Wanna join?

Michael Boyce
co-president, Winnipeg Chapter

The Slow Club.
We'll Get There... eventually.

We know Major Tom's a junkie

*wipes the sleep from his eyes*

Yesterday was a LONG day. I went out to Otterburne about 8:30 in the morning and didn't leave until 10 o'clock at night. And while I couldn't find anything to eat for supper other than a bag of Doritos and a bottle of Coke, I'm actually glad I stayed out. Last night was the opening night of the major production, An Inspector Calls. A former student of mine invited me (she's assistant director) and I had a really good time. There are some incredibly talented actors out there... in the middle of nowhere.

It's the middle of nowhere part that caused me all my problems last night. I wanted food. Something edible to put in my stomach. I couldn't recall any places to eat for the different ways I know to get into Otterburne. I didn't want to go driving around the country looking for someplace to eat (visions of a wintry Texas Chainsaw Massacre danced in my head). I settled on the little cubbyhole-sized variety store thing in the main concourse of campus. I was starving when I got home. In fact I'm still hungry just thinking about it.

I feel so funny deep inside

Coffee jitters. Can't concentrate. Lunch soon. But not soon enough.

Was in the mall today. Talking with the soon to be Academic Dean of Booth College. Saw someone I hadn't seen in a few years. Almost didn't recognize her. She almost didn't recognize me. Didn't get to talk.

Reading Ellroy has made my sentences choppy. Too highly influenced. Blame him.

Name your top 10 most played bands:
1. Velvet Underground
2. Beatles
3. Miles Davis
4. David Bowie
5. Wolf Parade
6. Spoon
7. Elvis Costello
8. Tom Waits
9. Nick Drake
10. John Cale


Now answer the questions according to the numbers:
What was the first song you ever heard by 6? "Something to Look Forward to"
What is your favourite album of 2? "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
What is your favourite lyric that 4 has sung? "Insanity laughs, Under pressure we're Cracking"
How many times have you seen 5 live? 0
What is your favorite song by 7? "Veronica"
What is a good memory you have involving the music of 10? Standing in the old GenX picking movies with friends
Is there a song of 3 that makes you sad? Kind of Blue
What is your favorite lyric that 2 has sung? "I am the eggmen, you are the eggman; I am the walrus"
What is your favorite song by 9? "Fly"
How did you get in to 3? Chris Beckett
What was the first song you heard by 1? That I remember, probably "Pale Blue Eyes"
What is your favorite song by 4? "Live on Mars"
How many time have you seen 9 live? 0 and I never will
What is a good memory you have involving 2? The air band of Twist and Shout in Grade 8
Is there a song of 8 that makes you sad? All of them. But a good sad.
What is your favorite album of 5? They only have one. "With Apologies to the Queen Anne"
What is your favorite lyric that 3 has sung? Miles doesn't sing; he plays
What is your favorite song of 1? "Pale Blue Eyes"
What is your favorite song of 10? "Paris 1919" from Fragments of a Rainy Season
How many times have you seen 8 live? 0
What is your favorite album of 1? the first three are all perfect
What is a great memory you have considering 9? I don't.
What was the first song you heard by 8? "Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhaugen)"
What is your favorite cover by 2? "Twist and Shout"

Don't the hours grow shorter as the days go by?

On Friday night CBC showed LA Confidential. Man, I love that film. Too bad they ran it at 11:30 at night. I couldn't stay up that night (being an old man, I needs my sleeps!). I taped the whole thing, but wound up watching an hour or so anyway. Something about murder, drugs and whores cut to look like movie stars that makes me smile! That's likely a character fault.

Saturday I shaved my head again. This is something I do when I'm stressed or annoyed or unhappy. It's my version of cutting. I didn't Bic to the bone it this time, so I suppose I wasn't that stressed, annoyed, unhappy. It's just very short. Short enough that I've cut a good 10 minutes out of my "start of the day" routine.

Today's Sunday: honestly can't remember what I've done.

Senility at 30. Sad.

This is our last dance, this is ourselves under pressure

An open letter to the loud, loud man who rides the 36.

Dear Fathead,

Many years ago the good people at Winnipeg Transit did a great service for the people of Winnipeg: they created a useful bus route. The 36.

The 36 is magical. In twenty to twenty-five minutes, you can get from Maryland and Westminster to the University of Manitoba. Quite simply, and at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, it this best thing ever created. Ever.

But with all good things, there must be the bad. And you, sir, are the bad. You have turned the most enjoyable of bus rides into twenty minutes of knuckle chewing, headache inducing tedium. You see, you start talking as you get on bus and you don't stop, ever, until you reach your stop. You never seem to be talking anyone in particular, but you use a voice loud enough that all can hear. I know you have children - I've heard all about their first steps, current friends and that ever-so-interesting fascination with dinosaurs; have you lectured them about using "indoor voices"? I suggest you look over your notes for that speech.

Maybe you think that people enjoy your loud pontificating about every subject under the sun. Maybe you think we want to know about your theories of municipal infrastructure or the need for a drastic restructuring of the University Senate. You would be wrong. Very, very wrong.

As much as I want to be, I can't be too angry with you. Part of me believes you are married to a shrewish wife who shushes you as soon as you walk in the door after your long day at the University. Maybe you're made to be quiet all evening, and the bus is your last chance to say something, anything for the rest of the day. That's my theory. But it doesn't make me anymore interested in listening to you detail the in-workings of a medieval Norwegian fish village.

I want help you. I see people snicker and roll their eyes at you while you're going on about how you'd reorganize the Canada Council for Research Grants. I see people make that "Oh, God, please kill me" face when you're detailing your son's most recent swimming lesson and how he must obviously be gifted because he didn't drown. And I feel bad for you. So here are a few tips to help you out.

1) Indoor voice. I know the bus isn't technically "indoors," but it is an enclosed space.

2) Avoid words like "dichotomy" or "infused". People will want to punch you if you use them. And you want to avoid being punched. Frankly, looking you, I don't think you'd be any good in a fight.

3) Conversations tend to involve more than one person. Try to find a partner.

4) Bring a book on the bus. It'll give you something to do instead of talk. Resist the temptation to read passages aloud.


Sincerely,
On behalf of a number of people on the bus

Mike

Mister, catch me if you can

Another mildly productive weekend. Did some reading, some writing, no marking. Guess I'll have to work extra hard on that in the next couple of days.

Watched The Breakfast Club the other day. It was on Diva. It's probably the only time I've ever watched Diva. Still, despite being shown on such stupidly named station, I watched with glee. Actually, "glee" is too strong a word. Delight. That's better. And nostaglia. Nostaglia for a time when your whole world stood or fell on the opinions of a very small number of people.

I didn't really dig highschool myself. University was a far better experience. Highschool wasn't horrible or anything. I mean, I had friends. I was moderately well-liked. And while I don't think I would have been as easily definable as "jock" or "brain" (I totally wasn't a jock, I can tell you), but I vividly recall the sense of isolation and frustration of being labelled. In highschool I watched a number of friends, for whatever reason, drift into separate groups. Groups that didn't typically hang out.

You broke the boy in me, but you won't break the man

So, my misanthropic tendencies flared up the other day: I was waiting for a bus to take me downtown. Right before the bus pulled up, a class of about 20 Korean ESL students showed up out of nowhere. And they all had large cardboard stand-ups, like old science-fair projects displays. Their teacher, a frazzled-looking, hippie woman with large hoop earring and a babushka, tried to herd them towards the bus, "I hope we can all fit on." And fit on we did - if by "fit" you mean I got crammed between a pole and rather large (and rather smelly) man. What fun! (this is where I’d add the smiley face with the rolly eyes, if I knew how to do that here)

The bus was, sadly, not an express. There are about 10 stops between where I caught e bus and where I usually get off. I figured I'd be stuck next to smelly for a few stops, but that people would get off.

No one got off.

Lots of people got on.

I couldn't take it anymore. I got off a few stops early and, muttering under my breath, walked the rest of the way.

Hung with pictures of our parents' Prime Ministers

Another year, another Oscar ceremony.

Having seen only 10% of all the films nominated, I don't really know if I have any business commenting on who did (or didn't) win; but than again, I DID pick more winners than my wife (who saw 90% of the films). I won. I get to do the dance of superiority. I must limber up. And I while I fully intend to do said dance, what did I really do? Guess the politics of the academy? As George Clooney said in his excellent acceptance speech, it's not they all played the same part. Luckily for me choosing the winners is less about discerning talent and more about knowing the game.

I have no idea if Reese Witherspoon was better than Dame Judi Dench (who should learn how to act happy), but I do know that Dench has won before and is nominated all the time. Witherspoon is young, learned to do things for the role (singing and playing the autoharp), and portrayed a beloved American figure. I picked Reese and it paid off.

I didn't pick Philip Seymour Hoffman, but I should have. This was a category where I had seen one of the movies and went with my reaction to that performance instead of figuring out the game. Joaquin (or however the hell you spell his name) Phoenix was incredible as Johnny Cash. He, like Reese, learned things for his role (singing and guitar), and he played a beloved real-life American figure. That should have counted for a lot, but that beloved real-life American figure wasn't a) disabled or b) gay. The Academy loves marginalized figures: handicapped, homosexuals, mentally unbalanced. Yes, Johnny Cash was a drug addict and that was portrayed in the film, but beloved and drug addicted was trumped by the also real life Capote's sexual preference and overall bizarreness (like that voice!). Not that Hoffman wasn't incredible in the role, but he had more things going for him. I figure that one year an actor will be nominated for playing a gay, handicapped alcoholic. If that happens, the other nominees might as well save themselves the cost of the tux rental.

Okay: true, Felicity Huffman played a transgendered male, but that's still a little too extreme for Hollywood. Or at least that's my way of justifying not choosing her and her not winning.

As for the actual show itself, I liked it. Hang on. Perhaps I should rephrase that. I mean: I liked what little I saw of the Oscar show. I figured, why watch the whole show when I hadn't watched all the movies that the show was about? But what I did see was good. Jon Stewart is one of my favourite TV personalities of all-time. I love the guy to death, but he seemed a little out of his element. Maybe it was the strict run time, maybe it was that he was told not to do anything too political; he seemed uncomfortable. He was funny, don't get me wrong, but he wasn't as funny as he is night after night on the Daily Show. That said, I did LOVE the "defense" of the importance of heterosexuality in cowboy films. That might be the funniest thing I've ever seen on an Oscar show.

Some random thoughts:

Are they making dresses in negative sizes now? Could some of those actresses possibly be in more need of a sandwich? Jessica Alba's a beautiful woman, but dammit, girl, eat something.

In one crowd shot, I thought, "Man, Harvey Ketiel looks scarier than usual." I then realized that it was Heath Ledger. Is he playing Keitel in an upcoming movie? There's no excuse for looking like that.

Is George Clooney the coolest guy in Hollywood? And Jon Stewart's right: how much more can he get?

Who was that weird-assed guy who wrote Brokeback Mountain? I get the feeling he doesn't get out much.

Should Will Ferrell even be allowed in to the Oscars?

Jack Nicholson sat next to Keira Knightley. Can you blame him? I would have fought Jack Nicholson to sit next to Keira Knightley.

It's memories that I'm stealing, but you're innocent when you dream

For the second week in a row the best thing on television was the Best of Monty Python on PBS. This week's episodes (3 and 4 in and series of 6) featured the Best of John Cleese and the Best of Terry Gilliam.

The premise of Cleese's episode, that he's now a senile, cantankerous old man, started off as funny, but became a little tired by the end. Still, I really liked that the show began with a fake memorial to Cleese - showing, once again, that there's not much funnier than death. Again, the focus of the show's is not (necessarily) the most popular sketches, but the personal favourites of the individual members. Cleese has always been my favourite Python. He plays straight-laced authority figures so well - trying so hard to be proper, but seething with rage just beneath the surface.

Gilliam's all animated episode worked surprisingly well. Originally, the stuff that linked the sketches together, there's more than enough substance in these pieces to warrant a full hour. While he's had the most obvious success post-Python, Gilliam always seemed the odd Python out: American, an animator, absent from most sketches. The framing narrative of Gilliam's episode is Terry exposing the secret origins of "Monty Python's Flying Circus." The show was originally supposed to be all animation and that he'd hired these unemployed "University boys" to do voices and a bit of live action filler, who later kissed butt to the bigwigs at BBC to get bigger parts. Gilliam's animation was (and is) unlike anything before. In an age when major animation studios are turning their attention the possibilities of computer-animation, there's a lost magic about the found art and unique vision of Terry Gilliam.

The chair next to you's free

Well, March came in like the proverbial lion. We got dumped with snow Wednesday, just in time for me to drive home from Otterburne through it. Whoopity do. Blizzards make me love driving even more than I do all the other time.

A student puts up her hand today and asks me if I've heard of some poet. I say, "I don't think so; why?" She informs me that I'd like him, 'cause "he's bitter about getting old." Now where did I put that grade book?

I just finished Phillipa Gregory's The Other Boleyn Girl. As far as historical fiction goes, very interesting: I highly recommend it.

Basically, it tells the story Anne Boleyn's younger (in the novel anyway - historians aren't sure who was older) sister, Mary and the events surrounding Henry's attempt to get his first marriage annulled by the Church. Before Anne married Henry VIII, Mary likely had an affair with the King, and possibly gave birth to two children by Henry. While the history is much murkier than Gregory suggests, the description of the politics of court are fascinating and deadly accurate. The deceit and conniving of Howard family (to who the Boleyns were connected on their mother's side) would make contemporary politicians green with envy. They decide to throw both daughters at the King in order to win the crown's favour. Henry, whose reputation for womanizing is well documented, takes the bait; he first beds Mary, then becomes infatuated with Anne. Gregory suggests that this infatuation leads to Henry's descent into tyranny. He challenges the Church, English tradition, even the support of his own people to get what he wants. People who stand in his way find themselves in the Tower of London or on the block. Of course, when Anne falls out of favour, the attitude and temperament she encouraged in Henry become directed at her and her family: trumped up charges, hearsay evidence, unlawful imprisonment and finally execution.

What was one part disturbing, two parts intriguing was the way things were done, particularly in regards to the manipulation of women for political gain. In order for Mary to be the mistress of the King, she had to be married so as to avoid scandal (?!) yet live apart from her husband; in case there was a child, paternity could not be questioned. As long as she was married Mary reputation was, for the most part, secure. Unmarried Anne must deny the King sex for fear of being labeled a common whore. And all the adultery and infidelity is not only encouraged but arranged by the Howard family.

Of course this being a contemporary novel, with contemporary sensibilities, both Mary and Anne have a few speeches about the unfortunate place of women and the role Anne's only child, a daughter, might play in the shaping of England. The daughter, Queen Elizabeth, would of course go on to rule England as one of its greatest monarchs