Busted flat in Baton Rouge

Despite the magical wonder and, dare I say, romanticism of last night's post about the connectedness of snow, this morning I was forced to reexamine the phenomenon in the cold (-2 degrees to be precise) light of day. And I have come to the conclusion that snow is a terrible, terrible thing.

A singer must die for the lie in his voice

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. James Joyce, "The Dead"

"The Dead" is one of my favourite short stories and likely the best thing Joyce ever wrote. I love this closing image: the defeated Gabriel Conroy, who has recently discovered that he never loved his wife or any one, peers out over the snow-covered streets of Dublin.

Winnipeg is covered in snow this evening, a fine white blanket of snow that covers us all, connects us all (well, we who are in Manitoba anyway)- those who wish they were better connected; those who don't wish to be connected; those trying not to be.

Watching snow softly fall from the warmth and comfort of your house, even October snow, is a fine, fine thing.

between thought and expression

So, I basically slept the whole weekend away. I'd get up, start watching television and then fall asleep. I'd wake up, eat, start a movie, and then fall asleep. I took all kinds of flu and cold medication and drank more tea than an English cricket team. I also consumed a whole loaf of bread (which I ate toasted, with either marmalade or sugar) as well as all the left over roast beef (imagining that I needed a lot of iron).

I attempted to read, but couldn't concentrate long enough to follow a sustained narrative or argument. Lewis's An Experiement in Criticism was far too complicated in my state. Instead, I turned to more familiar ground, re-reading a number of Sherlock Holmes stories. Later, after re-reading all my favourites, I turned my attention to an anthology of short fiction. That, too, was more my speed.

I'm feeling better today (I did manage to drag my sorry carcass down to the University at 7 o'clock this morning) but could definitely use a nap. I've managed to stave off doing anything too physical, which I trust shows my mental faculties are returing. This weekend I would have been too tired to bother trying to put off anything.

I've been very gloomy

I cannot seem to shake whatever this annoying health thing is - exhaustion, illness, breakdown. I've been sleeping far too much and I'm always tired, as the slightest thing wears me completely out. I have tried ingesting these super Vitiman C drinks which give you 1666% (not a typo) of your daily recommended Vit C dosage and are supposed to restore engery, but they don't appear to do anything besides taste awful.

If this is a sickness of some kind, then I wish it would manifest itself fully and get it over with. I'd much rather be "sick" than this namby-pamby "almost sick" or "sickish" crap.

I think I need a nap.

I've seen the future, brother; it is murder

So Tai Chi came and went. We learned two moves, both of which were pretty easy. One required no foot movement at all (always a good thing) and the other was basically a deep knee bend with a few extra bits. Of course, my legs now KILL from deep knee bending over and over again. The deep knee bend move is called "carrying the tiger to the mountain." I asked then, as I ask now: what kind of idiot carries a tiger any place? A guy with sore legs, that's who.

Oh, and to rebutt a popular misconception here at the (not really that) exciting world of Mike: I am not spazzy arm guy. I'm quite cool with the fact that I'm not the most coordinated cat in the land, but arm-guy is truly something else. I am completely serious when I say that this man just out and out flails his arms - up and down, side to side. I'm wondering if he'll ever just start flying.

A reasonably good day in Otterburne. Only had one class and the students wrote an inclass assignment (I've hesitating calling it a midterm, but, honestly, that's what it is) so I had to amuse myself for an hour and a half while they wrote. I spun around on my chair, found a bag of suckers under the desk, I watched the students' funny faces and I replied to various blogs. I was planning on doing some more responding/posting of my own, but the keyboard was kind of clicky. Afterwards I had a good conversation with a few people, and then came home early and voted. I ACTUALLY voted. It is a red letter day.

And finally, there will be no sexy, cute or sassy photos of Mike published on this blog or any other blog for that matter. No such pictures exist. Any reference to such photographs should be ignored.

That is all.

If there's something inside that you wanna say, Say it out loud it'll be okay

The Random and Unconnected thoughts from my Tuesday:

1) Is there a better song than The Beta Band's "Dry the Rain"? If there is, I don't wanna hear it. That song rocks!

2) Pay "mistakes" make Mike mad. Two pay mistakes in the same week?!??!! Grrrrrr, Mike smash!!!!

3) Sandwiches for lunch make me smile.

4) Take me in and dry the rain.

5) Can't concentrate for more than a few minutes. A.D.D.? Don't mind if I do!

6) Am I really as creepy as Roz seems to think I am?

7) Tai chi tonight. I really hope I'm better than Guy-Who-Just Waves-His-Arms and Girl-Who-Can't-Tell-Her-Right-From-Her-Left.

I give'r my heart but she wanted my soul

Today was a marginally productive day. I went to Booth in the late morning to work. It would have been much better if I had remembered to eat something. About 3 o'clock I was famished to point of not being able to concentrate. Couldn't find a vending machine for the life of me, so I went home. After eating and napping (for three hours), I couldn't really get back in the groove. Still, I got some good work done when I was at school.

I know I have to start eating better. I can't let myself get sick. No time. My sleep patterns are already all screwed up, and if I continue to skip meals they'll get screwed up even worse. When I don't eat, I need naps. Lots of naps. And as enjoyable as sleeping is (that's where I'm a Viking), I need to be working and writing.

My Ipod Nano is my new best friend. It loves me and I love it*.

*I thought about making it female, but I already have people thinking I'm creepy so it shall remain genderless).

And my parents will never consent to this love

Princess Leia turned 50 today.

That's just creepy. For most males my age, Carrie Fisher was our first serious crush. She was pretty, take charge, and a freakin' princess (until we found out that in George Lucas's politically advanced fantasy world princesses are voted upon, which made it far less cool and mysterious).

And don't even get me started on the gold bikini from Jedi.

and we'll all come praise the Infanta

Got my new Ipod Nano the other day. I love it like a child. It's magically wonderous. Rachel spoils me and I totally don't deserve it. She also picked up this awesome skin for it. The salesman called it the 'ugly orange,' but, I've decided, he's a moron. It's awesome orange.

As an additional bonus, I received $20 at the ITunes store, so I picked up one song (the new, haunting lute cut of Sting's "Fields of Gold" which was featured on this week's "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip") and one album, the Decemberist's "Picaresque." My great, pixie friend, Jaimie, has been singing the praises of the Decemeberists in her professional voice for some time. I am not disappointed in the least. Jaimie never steered me wrong - from ice cream that tastes like frozen whipped cream to Veronica Mars, from directions to her work to an awesome album: Jaimie rocks!

We have to pay for the love that we stole

I was watching television this morning before I left for work. Commercials are becoming increasingly irksome. I seriously think advertisers think we're all morons as commercials seem to fall into two major categories: 1) Men are stupid and 2) Everyone's stupid. Whether it's a guy using a clicker to record all the looks the ladies give him or a woman hiding the fact that she's using Glade candles apparently we're all frickin' morons.

Of course, it's not like some of these products are all that intelligent. One of the commercials I saw this morning was for the new Gillette razor. Apparently regular razors are now battery operated! I don't know about you, but the idea of putting a real razor blade that's moving close to my face doesn't appeal to me. Call me crazy.

Lock up the streets and houses Cos there's something in the air

And there definitely seems to be something in the air today.

It's weird. People who normally don't talk to me at all have been coming up and talking about my head (I re-shaved my head on the weekend). One lady, who I haven't said more than three words to in three years, was almost giddy, "Someone got a haircut!" Another lady, who seems a little grumpy but is really very nice but shy, looked up from her book when I was talking to the person sitting beside her: "I like that look on you," she said.

"Um, thanks," I stammered out, surprised for the second time today that I was being spoken to.

Come, Mr Tally Man, Tally ME banana

Went to see "The Apple" last night, which launched the new Prairie Theatre Exchange season. It was quite good. I thought the three performers were first rate. My main problem was with Vern Thiessen's script. While some people could judge the illness metaphor as a tad "heavy handed," I objected to some of the clichéd and conventional scenes. I mean, on the whole I liked the play quite a bit, but if we could implement a moratorium on the whole "girl meets guy while sitting on a bench" scene for, say, forty or fifty years, I'd be quite content. Have you ever been sitting on a bench and started up a conversation with an attractive stranger that resulted in love or sex? If you are male then the answer is an emphatic: No! Of course you haven't. Don't be stupid. No one has. Girls? Maybe. I don't know.

I realize that in order for the plot to progress you must sometimes depict the meeting of two characters, but why Thiessen falls back to this clichéd, run of the mill way is beyond me. Whenever I see this type of scene acted out, it reeks of high school drama class. Maybe it has something to do with the fantasies of male playwrights. Guys do clutch onto the idea that somewhere out there in the world are beautiful, forward women who will come right up to sad, lonely (often middle aged) men and introduce themselves and possibly proposition them. But this is more the realm of letters to Playboy, not legit theatre. Again, while the actors are first rate, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why the beautiful young woman would fall for, let alone sleep with, the pathetic, henpecked husband. When she meets him he's depressed having lost his job and fought with his overbearing wife. My wife's assurance that "caring for a sick spouse is very attractive" didn't really satisfy this point. Even if that is the reason she eventually falls in love with him (despite not being made explicit in the play), it still does not explain why she'd start up a conversation with the guy in a park, flirt with him in the park and then guide his hand to her breasts - where? you guessed it - IN THE PARK! There might as well have been fairies and goblins.

Long time ago when we was fab

I was on my way to Booth this afternoon when I passed a man wearing a dead wolf on his head. Just let that sink in for a second. A man with a dead wolf on his head!

It was surreal. The wolf's head sat on his head, the body covered his neck and upper back, and its dead animal legs flapped in the wind. I wonder if he killed it himself or is there a Dead Animal Appearal Store somewhere in the city? But whatever you've heard, know this: pelts are back this winter, baby!

Found poem

Missing

One dolphin exclamation mark
Much loved
Small and Gray
We are offering a
reward - double underlined

you are my world you are my only love

I wish I had something interesting to write today. But I don't. Class was long, I have a bag full of papers to grade by next week and the drive home was crappy (snow squalls - which, while fun to say, are not fun to drive through) and I really want to take a bath and watch the final season 2 "Veronica Mars."

Keep coming up with love but its so slashed and torn

Are cheaters really pumpkin eaters? Cuz if so, I'm going to be cheating at everything. EVERYTHING!

I just looked out the window and realized that it is snowing here in Winnipeg. Dammit.

Blue Train

Just read that Joss Whedon has no plans to make a sequel to Serenity. Disappointed? Oh, my yes. I'd heard it was going to be a trilogy. Guess now that half my friends are done with their "Firefly" kick, that'll be it for "Firefly."
I was hoping that there'd be something new that we could all see together as I've been unable to join them due to mass thesising. Now if I could just convince them to start watching "Veronica Mars"... Actually, I can't convice them to watch anything. Tommy, the harbinger of good times can though. The power that boy has... staggering.

Speaking of Veronica, Rachel and I are almost finished the second season. It's so good -lots of witty banter, great music and red herrings. And Veronica is so, so adorable (and as Rachel drools over Logan, I feel fine saying that).

I am always the one who calls

How sad is it that I completely forgot that it's Thankgiving up here in Canada this weekend? Pathetic. Actually, it only occured to me when I was sitting in my office, trying to figure out what Yeats' poems to cover in class, and a little thought popped into my head: "I'd really like some pumpkin pie." From that simple craving it was only a hop, skip and a jump to: "Oh, yeah, it's Thanksgiving this weekend." Somebody shoot me.

Actually, it shouldn't be a big surprise that I forgot. It's not like we have anything exciting planned. Commitments in the city with Rachel's work have made going away impossible. Some of Rachel's cousins had talked about hosting Thanksgiving dinner, but we haven't heard whether that's actually happening.

Frankly, as long as I get that pumpkin pie, I don't care much one way or the other. Turkey's all fine and good, but the pie... that's where it's at, man.

you can come too....

Here are a few photos from my trip to the Zoo this summer.

Let this be the epitaph for my heart

Taught some love poetry - Sidney, Spenser - apparently I'm the most heartless of cads. *shrugs*

I don't believe in the sun...

Slept for 16 hours yesterday. Why is it that I'm happiest when asleep?

I'm still cranky, but it's more like my typical, whimsical cranky then the enraged ball of anger I was yesterday.

This weekend I was able to see a couple of people I hadn't seen in a while because of thesising. Some people seemed happy to see me... others, not so much. Pfft. Whatever.

Here comes the rain again

I wish i could account for why I'm so irritable today. Actually, irritable is too nice a word for what I am, I'm enraged. The slightest things set me off and I find myself stewing in my vile rage juices. My boss left a phone message asking me to copy out the caption of a photo in one of the St John's hallways and fax it to him... I ranted and cursed for 10 minutes. Thankfully, my one co-worker who's here today is pissy too. We've been looking out for each other.