Monday, July 28, 2008
Left me standing all alone
Well, the Fringe is over. It was an excellent fringe this year. The quality of shows is quite high. The only show I didn't really like was still quite good - the humour was a little too frat-boy for my ultra-sophiscated tastes (that's sarcasm, by the way). Since I last posted I saw a few more excellent shows: "Singing At the Edge of the World", "Manners for Men" and Gemma Wilcox's amazing "Shadows in Bloom." I'd never seen Wilcox before but she was fantastic, slipping in and out of various characters. A number of performers enact several characters in their shows, but few have Wilcox's flexibity and attention to detail.
I had a few ideas for possible Fringe shows. A couple of people have suggested I consider writing/performing something one year... but we'll see. Ideas aren't the same as fully realized scripts.
With the end of the Fringe, it's time for the move. We take possession of the house on Thursday and start the annoying moving process whenever we get the keys. People (friends, Romans and countrymen) have offered to move the majority of our stuff (minus the furniture) on Saturday.
And the next Monday, before we've even had a chance to unpack, I teach an intensive all-day, five-day-a-week course.
I had a few ideas for possible Fringe shows. A couple of people have suggested I consider writing/performing something one year... but we'll see. Ideas aren't the same as fully realized scripts.
With the end of the Fringe, it's time for the move. We take possession of the house on Thursday and start the annoying moving process whenever we get the keys. People (friends, Romans and countrymen) have offered to move the majority of our stuff (minus the furniture) on Saturday.
And the next Monday, before we've even had a chance to unpack, I teach an intensive all-day, five-day-a-week course.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Lunatic Fringe / I know you're out there
My favourite of the Winnipeg summer festivals (IOW the various events they put on to make up for the horrible winter) is the Fringe Festival. Some people prefer Folk Fest with its man-skirts, wannabe hippies, and mini-lawn chairs, but I'm a Fringe guy. I like theatre.
As most years, I've seen a pretty wide variety of shows, everything from serious "plays" to experimental spoken word. And, like most years, some things are good, some things... aren't. That's the beauty of the Fringe.
One play I saw yesterday - Kier Cutler's "Teaching the Fringe" - got me thinking about the Fringe in particular and theatre and society in general. Cutler is a regular Fringe performer, one of the handful of actors referred to by those annoying patrons who insist on wearing threadbare ghosts-of-Fringe-past t-shirts as a "Fringe god." Last year, when he was staging the last of his Teaching trilogy (Teaching Shakespeare, Detroit, and As You Like it), one Winnipeg audience member was so offended by what she (bizarrely!) interpreted as Cutler's attempt to 1) instruct would-be predators how to seduce young girls and 2) legitimize teacher-student relationship that she wrote a three page letter to the Fringe organizer and reported Cutler to Child-Find Manitoba. Cutler's response? Teaching the Fringe.
Cutler uses the letter as the anchor for his first autobiographical show, but more than just responding to the ludicirous charges, Cutler talks about audiences and audience behaviour. He recounts some of his more extreme N.A.M.E.s (negative audience memebr experiences), but there was the under-lying message audiences are largely unaware of their role in theatre. And it was this part of the show that resonated with me. As I thought more about it, I realized that audiences are getting worse and worse.
In the show right before Cutler's show, "Mr Fox," a cell phone went off four times. Same lady, same cell phone. Seriously. Once is irresponsible enough, but to leave it on and have it ring three more times is beyond stupid. If you're unable to master the subtle art of flicking the off button on your little Razor or Motorola, maybe you shouldn't have a cellphone. This woman eventually left, but like a typical Canadian apologised as she left. But she was just an extreme example of a larger problem of audience memebers. I have yet to see a Fringe show this year that wasn't interupted by a cellphone. The Fringe orgainzers play a recording of one the local CBC guys reminding people, "for respect to the artists," to turn off their cellphones and yet people must sit their and think, "That reminder must apply to everyone but me."
Maybe this the problem Cutler is talking about: an increasing believe in society that the rules apply to other people. I saw a woman get furious with Fringe volunteers because they wouldn't let her go into a show she was late for. The doors were closed, there are countless signs around stating, "No late comers," but apparently that didn't matter because she was "from out-of-town."
As most years, I've seen a pretty wide variety of shows, everything from serious "plays" to experimental spoken word. And, like most years, some things are good, some things... aren't. That's the beauty of the Fringe.
One play I saw yesterday - Kier Cutler's "Teaching the Fringe" - got me thinking about the Fringe in particular and theatre and society in general. Cutler is a regular Fringe performer, one of the handful of actors referred to by those annoying patrons who insist on wearing threadbare ghosts-of-Fringe-past t-shirts as a "Fringe god." Last year, when he was staging the last of his Teaching trilogy (Teaching Shakespeare, Detroit, and As You Like it), one Winnipeg audience member was so offended by what she (bizarrely!) interpreted as Cutler's attempt to 1) instruct would-be predators how to seduce young girls and 2) legitimize teacher-student relationship that she wrote a three page letter to the Fringe organizer and reported Cutler to Child-Find Manitoba. Cutler's response? Teaching the Fringe.
Cutler uses the letter as the anchor for his first autobiographical show, but more than just responding to the ludicirous charges, Cutler talks about audiences and audience behaviour. He recounts some of his more extreme N.A.M.E.s (negative audience memebr experiences), but there was the under-lying message audiences are largely unaware of their role in theatre. And it was this part of the show that resonated with me. As I thought more about it, I realized that audiences are getting worse and worse.
In the show right before Cutler's show, "Mr Fox," a cell phone went off four times. Same lady, same cell phone. Seriously. Once is irresponsible enough, but to leave it on and have it ring three more times is beyond stupid. If you're unable to master the subtle art of flicking the off button on your little Razor or Motorola, maybe you shouldn't have a cellphone. This woman eventually left, but like a typical Canadian apologised as she left. But she was just an extreme example of a larger problem of audience memebers. I have yet to see a Fringe show this year that wasn't interupted by a cellphone. The Fringe orgainzers play a recording of one the local CBC guys reminding people, "for respect to the artists," to turn off their cellphones and yet people must sit their and think, "That reminder must apply to everyone but me."
Maybe this the problem Cutler is talking about: an increasing believe in society that the rules apply to other people. I saw a woman get furious with Fringe volunteers because they wouldn't let her go into a show she was late for. The doors were closed, there are countless signs around stating, "No late comers," but apparently that didn't matter because she was "from out-of-town."
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
One, two, three, four
So, Feist is going to be on Sesame Street with a revamped version of her ridiculously catchy, "One, Two, Three, Four." Instead of being about annoying love, the new version is about counting to four. She counts monsters, penguins, all sorts of things. Here's the video evidence.
Sesame Street claims that Feist's appearance is the first step in an attempt to focus this season (the 39th, btw)on counting and spelling. And I ask, what else has Sesame Street being focusing on?
Sesame Street claims that Feist's appearance is the first step in an attempt to focus this season (the 39th, btw)on counting and spelling. And I ask, what else has Sesame Street being focusing on?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Feeling sensations that you thought was dead...
I haven't really had a lot of time to write anything in the last few weeks. My wife and I just bought a house and the possession date is ridiculously close, like the end of the month. So most of my "spare" time has been spent getting ready for the move: getting help, packing, figuring out the joys of home-ownership. We're having a yardsale this weekend to get rid of bunch of stuff too. There's nothing I like better than selling off stuff, particularly early on a Saturday morning!
It's a lovely little house and we're happy, or at least we will be once our heads stop spinning.
Anyway, that's the reason for the radio-silence.
As you were.
It's a lovely little house and we're happy, or at least we will be once our heads stop spinning.
Anyway, that's the reason for the radio-silence.
As you were.
Monday, June 23, 2008
George Carlin, 1937-2008
I first discovered George Carlin in the mid 1980s when my friend Shawn and I started buying comedy cassettes and lps. I picked up his seminal Class Clown, which is famous for his routine "Seven Words You Can't Say on Television"; however that routine, for which Carlin was arrested and tried for obscentiy - overshadowed the astute political and cultural criticisms as well as the smaller, more personal observations like the musicalness of boxer Muhammed Ali's name. Profanity aside, in his early work Carlin came across as a laid back hippy, who is as amused with himself as the rest of the world.
As time went on, Carlin's onstage persona morphed to the angry old man, with no time for the but that sharp political criticism and deconstruction of society remained. He
Warning: Adult language and adult ideas...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
I'll get over you, I know I will
I never feel as out of touch with popular culture as when I'm watching shows like "Entertainment Tonight" or "Access Hollywood." Those celebrity-focused magazine shows, with interviews with people I've never heard of, tell me loud and clear that I really don't have a clue what young people like, what they're watching or what they're listening to. In the fifteen minutes I was watching ET last night, I didn't know a single "celebrity." I forced myself to keep watching until someone I recognized was featured. Most of these people seemed to be brainless, buxom reality show contestants or American Idol losers, but occassionally there'd be an actor (usually having recently starred with someone else I'd never heard of in a movie I'd never knew was in production) or a singer: someone I should probably know. Or if I do know their names or seen them in something, I have no idea why they are or how they got to be famous (Shia LeBeouf, for example - where'd this guy come from?).
For me, the biggest celebrity mystery would have to be the train-wreck that is Amy Winehouse. Who is this person? I know she's supposedly a singer (and I've heard that stupid "Rehab" song once or twice), but is she popular? Where did she come from? Why should I care?
For me, the biggest celebrity mystery would have to be the train-wreck that is Amy Winehouse. Who is this person? I know she's supposedly a singer (and I've heard that stupid "Rehab" song once or twice), but is she popular? Where did she come from? Why should I care?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Put my clarinet beneath your bed til I get back in town
Just got back from a conference in Vancouver. I'd never been to the west coast, so I was looking forward to it. Sure the conference promised ot be interesting, but people told me about the beautiful beaches and the lovely weather. It was cold and rainy (almost) the whole time. The sun only really broke the afternoon I returned to Winnipeg. C'est la vie.
Here are some thoughts from my journal I thought I'd share:
People run in Vancouver. Because I was still on Winnipeg time (two hours later than BC time) I was up and wondering around quite early. I was amazed by the number of joggers I encountered. You'd think, given the amazing surroundings, people would be inclined to slow down and take it all in. But they put their earphones in, focus on the space directly in front of them and run.
Heard far too much about that special little section of UBC known as Wreck beach, Vancouver's clothing optional beach. Of course, the only people who mentioned it were creepy old men. It was always said with a "ha-ha-ha" tone and raised eyebrows. I imagine that most of the bathers at Wreck are creepy old men, hoping against hope for young frollicking coeds to show up.
Academics make up words, even words that don't need to be invented. I heard someone use the word "photographified."
Here are some thoughts from my journal I thought I'd share:
People run in Vancouver. Because I was still on Winnipeg time (two hours later than BC time) I was up and wondering around quite early. I was amazed by the number of joggers I encountered. You'd think, given the amazing surroundings, people would be inclined to slow down and take it all in. But they put their earphones in, focus on the space directly in front of them and run.
Heard far too much about that special little section of UBC known as Wreck beach, Vancouver's clothing optional beach. Of course, the only people who mentioned it were creepy old men. It was always said with a "ha-ha-ha" tone and raised eyebrows. I imagine that most of the bathers at Wreck are creepy old men, hoping against hope for young frollicking coeds to show up.
Academics make up words, even words that don't need to be invented. I heard someone use the word "photographified."
"I'm sorry, what was that word again?"
"Photographified."
"What's that?"
"It denotes the obect you take a photograph of."
"You mean, photographed?"
Monday, May 26, 2008
I want to know, do I stay or do I go?
As part of my birthday celebrations, my wife took me to see the new Indiana Jones film on Thursday. Like most people my age, two trilogies made up my formative film-watching experience: Star Wars and Indiana Jones. And while time and experience (and Lucas's revisions) have chipped away at my appreciation of the original Star Wars films, Raiders of the Lost Ark remians one of the greatest and most influential action/adventure films of all time. And I am still a huge Indy fan: I have a framed Temple of Doom poster in my office, own a replica hat, and even started studying archaelogy when I began University in 1994.
When they announced a new Jones film, however, I was a not over the moon with excitement. I thought Last Crusade was a satifactory ending to the trilogy and I was plagued with visions (or should I say nightmares)of Star Wars: Episode 1. When they announced the film's title, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, my fears were hardly put to rest. What the heck a kingdom of a crystal skull? What the heck is a crystal skull? Rumours started flying about aliens, illegimate children, Russians, and the whole thing sounded like it was going to be a huge debacle.
For all the doubts and misgivings, though, one thought remained in my head: But it's Indiana Jones!
While Kingdom isn't great, it's hardly bad. In fact, I think it's a better film than the previous low-point in the trilogy, Temple of Doom. With the exceptions of some curious (I'll say baffling mis-steps, like the gophers or the vine-swinging), it's a solid Indiana Jones film. It has wit, style and character, mostly because of star Harrison Ford, who seemed as worn and battered as Indy's famous hat.
When they announced a new Jones film, however, I was a not over the moon with excitement. I thought Last Crusade was a satifactory ending to the trilogy and I was plagued with visions (or should I say nightmares)of Star Wars: Episode 1. When they announced the film's title, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, my fears were hardly put to rest. What the heck a kingdom of a crystal skull? What the heck is a crystal skull? Rumours started flying about aliens, illegimate children, Russians, and the whole thing sounded like it was going to be a huge debacle.
For all the doubts and misgivings, though, one thought remained in my head: But it's Indiana Jones!
While Kingdom isn't great, it's hardly bad. In fact, I think it's a better film than the previous low-point in the trilogy, Temple of Doom. With the exceptions of some curious (I'll say baffling mis-steps, like the gophers or the vine-swinging), it's a solid Indiana Jones film. It has wit, style and character, mostly because of star Harrison Ford, who seemed as worn and battered as Indy's famous hat.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
No one ever said it would be this hard
I just finished up teaching a week-long intensive course. Figure I'll spend the majority of the weekend sleeping and recovering. Teaching for several hours a day for five days straight took an awful lot out of me. I borrowed the DVD of No Country for Old Men from my brother-in-law, so maybe I'll watch that too.
My wife and I have been getting up and ready at the same in the morning for the first time in a long time. She likes to watch CBC Newsworld while she eats her breakfast. Since watching with her, even for the few moments I'm eating my Miniwheats, I've decided that although I am grown up, I'm not part of CBC's key demographic: 90% of the commerials are for Viagara, "Grey Power" insurance, and those stand-up-so-you-don't-fall bathtubs.
In other news, my friend Leighton sent me the following youtube clips. In my new favourite example of inter-religion dialogue, Woody Allen interviews Rev Billy Graham.
Bizarre.
My wife and I have been getting up and ready at the same in the morning for the first time in a long time. She likes to watch CBC Newsworld while she eats her breakfast. Since watching with her, even for the few moments I'm eating my Miniwheats, I've decided that although I am grown up, I'm not part of CBC's key demographic: 90% of the commerials are for Viagara, "Grey Power" insurance, and those stand-up-so-you-don't-fall bathtubs.
In other news, my friend Leighton sent me the following youtube clips. In my new favourite example of inter-religion dialogue, Woody Allen interviews Rev Billy Graham.
Bizarre.
Friday, April 25, 2008
And farewell to the girl with the sun in her eyes; Can I kiss you, and then I'll be gone
Well, the weekend is upon us once more and once more the majority of my time will be be spent in graduation. I just returned from a lovely, filling breakfast with the Booth College Board. There's an alumni presentation and reception tomorrow afternoon; and the graduation itself on Sunday. I decided not to go to the Grad banquet, although that was the most enjoyable event at Prov last weekend.
This is the first year that so many students I've taught , so many students I have loved teaching, are graduating. I watched a presentation of strengths-based leadership and one of the things the presenter said about strengths is "a strength is something that makes you feel strong." In figuring out strengths you figure out the activities that makes you feel excited, rejuvenated, like you've accomplished something. If this is true, then my strength is teaching students who enjoy literature and film and are excited to learn more. They make me strong.
I know there are students who make me feel this way who aren't leaving, and that there will be future students who will make me strong, but there are so many I'm saying goodbye to this year. And it is, as the poet says, "so hard to say goodbye to yesterday."
Wait. That wasn't the poet; that was Boyz II Men.
This is the first year that so many students I've taught , so many students I have loved teaching, are graduating. I watched a presentation of strengths-based leadership and one of the things the presenter said about strengths is "a strength is something that makes you feel strong." In figuring out strengths you figure out the activities that makes you feel excited, rejuvenated, like you've accomplished something. If this is true, then my strength is teaching students who enjoy literature and film and are excited to learn more. They make me strong.
I know there are students who make me feel this way who aren't leaving, and that there will be future students who will make me strong, but there are so many I'm saying goodbye to this year. And it is, as the poet says, "so hard to say goodbye to yesterday."
Wait. That wasn't the poet; that was Boyz II Men.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
And she left in the fall, that's her picture on the wall.
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
Opening Credits: "The Island, Come And See, The Landlord's Daughter, You'll Not Feel The Drowning" The Decemberists
Waking Up: "Walk Away" Tom Waits
First Day At School: "Blue Turning Grey Over You" Louis Armstrong. Apparently this part of the movie is Woody Allenesque
Sex Song: "Ol' 55 (live)" Tom Waits, from the VH1 Storytellers. "My time went quickly, I went lickety splittly"... no comment
Party Song: "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" Dana Fuchs, Joe Anderson & TV Carpio. So, apparently it'll be like every high school party I went to.
Falling In Love: "Whatever Gets you Through the day" The Radio. lol
Fight Song: "Devil's Eyes" Buck 65
Getting Stoned: Love Supreme: part 2, resolution
Breaking Up: "Under your Spell/Standing (reprise)" Amber Benson/Anthony Head. Wish I could stay.
Prom: "Tango til they're Sore" Tom Waits. I wish they played this at my prom.
Life's OK: "Hold on (to What)" Beautiful South. That would explain the upcoming mental breakdown
Mental Breakdown: "A Hard Rain's a-gonna fall" Dylan
Driving: "Rhymin' and Stealing" Beastie Boys
Flashback: "Jersey Girl" Tom Waits My itunes likes Tom Waits.
Getting Back Together: "My Guitar Wants to Kill yer Momma" Frank Zappa
Wedding: "Little Drop of Poison" Tom Waits And she left in the fall, that's her picture on the wall. She always had a little drop of poison.
Birth of First Child: "Trane's Blues" Miles Davis. My kid's going to be cool
Final Battle: "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)" The Decemberists
Death Scene: "Girl of the North Country" Dylan
Funeral Song: "Figure Eight" Blossom Dearie. Haunting and educational - School House ROCKS!!
Closing Credits: "All you Need is Love" Dana Fuchs & Jim Sturgess
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
Opening Credits: "The Island, Come And See, The Landlord's Daughter, You'll Not Feel The Drowning" The Decemberists
Waking Up: "Walk Away" Tom Waits
First Day At School: "Blue Turning Grey Over You" Louis Armstrong. Apparently this part of the movie is Woody Allenesque
Sex Song: "Ol' 55 (live)" Tom Waits, from the VH1 Storytellers. "My time went quickly, I went lickety splittly"... no comment
Party Song: "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" Dana Fuchs, Joe Anderson & TV Carpio. So, apparently it'll be like every high school party I went to.
Falling In Love: "Whatever Gets you Through the day" The Radio. lol
Fight Song: "Devil's Eyes" Buck 65
Getting Stoned: Love Supreme: part 2, resolution
Breaking Up: "Under your Spell/Standing (reprise)" Amber Benson/Anthony Head. Wish I could stay.
Prom: "Tango til they're Sore" Tom Waits. I wish they played this at my prom.
Life's OK: "Hold on (to What)" Beautiful South. That would explain the upcoming mental breakdown
Mental Breakdown: "A Hard Rain's a-gonna fall" Dylan
Driving: "Rhymin' and Stealing" Beastie Boys
Flashback: "Jersey Girl" Tom Waits My itunes likes Tom Waits.
Getting Back Together: "My Guitar Wants to Kill yer Momma" Frank Zappa
Wedding: "Little Drop of Poison" Tom Waits And she left in the fall, that's her picture on the wall. She always had a little drop of poison.
Birth of First Child: "Trane's Blues" Miles Davis. My kid's going to be cool
Final Battle: "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)" The Decemberists
Death Scene: "Girl of the North Country" Dylan
Funeral Song: "Figure Eight" Blossom Dearie. Haunting and educational - School House ROCKS!!
Closing Credits: "All you Need is Love" Dana Fuchs & Jim Sturgess
Thursday, April 17, 2008
If I could change your mind, I'd really love to break your heart
Well, my three classes have written their exams and I'm almost finished all the grading. I'd love to say that when I'm finished this last batch of papers that I'll be able to take a couple of days off and relax, but that's simply not going to happen. I have two consecutive weekends of grad ceremonies and hoopla and then a week-long intensive course in May that I have to prepare. In fact, this is going to be a busy summer. I have a conference in June, new classes to prepare, a program to create and two week-long intensive courses to teach.
Busy, busy, busy.
But this weekend I plan on enjoying myself at Prov's graduation weekend. There's a banquet on Saturday, a few things on Sunday. I get to dress up in my fancy-pants robes and see a whole lot of students I've grown to love and respect walk across the stage and graduate. And I'm kind of thinking about it as my graduation from Providence too.
Busy, busy, busy.
But this weekend I plan on enjoying myself at Prov's graduation weekend. There's a banquet on Saturday, a few things on Sunday. I get to dress up in my fancy-pants robes and see a whole lot of students I've grown to love and respect walk across the stage and graduate. And I'm kind of thinking about it as my graduation from Providence too.
Friday, April 11, 2008
I sold opium, firewood and lead
Taught my last class at Providence College. I'll still be going out there a few more times before I'm officially done, but this was the last day of teaching, the last day of "normal" work.
Don't know what I was expecting - weeping? being carried out of the room on the shoulders of the students? - but it all felt a little anti-climatic. Some students came up after class and told me how much they liked the class and that was fantastic. I really appreciate it when student do that. And it wasn't a bad day or anything, but the whole day just felt a little off, a little rushed. People I wanted to hang out with weren't around or were busy and I was busy with grading, so it hardly felt "special," which is what I was hoping for.
Maybe I sound whiny - not my intention at all. I've loved my time there.
Don't know what I was expecting - weeping? being carried out of the room on the shoulders of the students? - but it all felt a little anti-climatic. Some students came up after class and told me how much they liked the class and that was fantastic. I really appreciate it when student do that. And it wasn't a bad day or anything, but the whole day just felt a little off, a little rushed. People I wanted to hang out with weren't around or were busy and I was busy with grading, so it hardly felt "special," which is what I was hoping for.
Maybe I sound whiny - not my intention at all. I've loved my time there.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Ain't Bobby so cool?
Anxiety? Giving a public lecture in 35 minutes and being sure no one will be showing up. I have an Inbox full of regrets...
I know Dave thinks that I've been shurking my bloggin duties and I have lost the right to be called a blogger... maybe I have. There have been many possible posts abrewing in my brain. I've just had a hard time finding 1) the time to blog and 2) the right language to express myself. The time is simply the reality of end of the term pressures - primarily marking and committee work. The language is part the need to censor myself - Raw EMOTION doesn't necessarily fly - and compose my thoughts in a manner fitting who I am.
This is all vague nonsense. I'll try to do better.
I blew a tire out for the first time in my life on Monday. Could have died.... if I lost control of the car and rolled it. Almost changed my first tire too, but thankfully a nice Purelator Courier guy stopped and helped me. He figured if I was reading my manual at the side of the road, then I didn't know what I was doing.
I know Dave thinks that I've been shurking my bloggin duties and I have lost the right to be called a blogger... maybe I have. There have been many possible posts abrewing in my brain. I've just had a hard time finding 1) the time to blog and 2) the right language to express myself. The time is simply the reality of end of the term pressures - primarily marking and committee work. The language is part the need to censor myself - Raw EMOTION doesn't necessarily fly - and compose my thoughts in a manner fitting who I am.
This is all vague nonsense. I'll try to do better.
I blew a tire out for the first time in my life on Monday. Could have died.... if I lost control of the car and rolled it. Almost changed my first tire too, but thankfully a nice Purelator Courier guy stopped and helped me. He figured if I was reading my manual at the side of the road, then I didn't know what I was doing.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Did I thank you for the items you sent to me?
I wish I had time to write a bit more frequently here. Since returning from my business trip on Sunday, I've been going non-stop - class, meetings, class, more meetings, catching up on marking, picking Rachel up from the airport. There was a mildly amusing incident involving lost keys that I'll spare you from; though I will say it concerns yours truly on his hands and knees in a snowbank with a flashlight.
I'm particularly bummed that Leonard Cohen's going to be touring this summer in what's being described as his last major tour. The man's almost two hundred and I certainly don't begrudge him retiring... but the tour schedule does not a thing for me. Right now the only Canadian dates are Toronto and (of course) Montreal. Most dates are in European, where the sophisticated European palate has a deeper appreciation from Cohen's peculiar blend of darkness and desire, whimsy and longing. Still, as Leonard saw me through many a heartache, I'd like to see him in concert once before one of us died.
I'm particularly bummed that Leonard Cohen's going to be touring this summer in what's being described as his last major tour. The man's almost two hundred and I certainly don't begrudge him retiring... but the tour schedule does not a thing for me. Right now the only Canadian dates are Toronto and (of course) Montreal. Most dates are in European, where the sophisticated European palate has a deeper appreciation from Cohen's peculiar blend of darkness and desire, whimsy and longing. Still, as Leonard saw me through many a heartache, I'd like to see him in concert once before one of us died.
Friday, February 29, 2008
And my best friend, my doctor, won't even say what is I got
I have admit it, I've been really depressed lately. I think I'm grieving the loss of the Mockingbird cast. Most of us still see each other around campus, but it's different. Instead of an almost familial relationship, we've been thrust back into acquaintance-land.
Maybe that makes no sense if you haven't experienced something similar.
Maybe that makes no sense if you haven't experienced something similar.
Monday, February 25, 2008
A self-ordained professor's tongue too serious to fool
As a Valentine's Day present to my wife, I agreed to accompany her to an exercise class at her all-female gym. As the gym was interviewing guys for a soon-to-be-opened co-ed location and there'd be males there anyway, they extended an invitation to the husbands, boyfriends, brothers, fathers of its members: "Come... and be tortured."
I'm sure part of reason behind Rachel asking me to show off just how fit she is. Unfortunately, going I would be showing off just how unfit I am. I have no trouble admitting that my wife is my physical superior. She's been working out for awhile. She can run further and faster, push more, squat, curl, whatever. Some people might think this speaks to my own laziness. I like to think of it as "progress."
We arrived early and I suggested staking out a spot at the back of the room. If I was going to embarrass myself (and, let's face it, that was assuredly going to happen) I would like a little privacy. At the front of the class, not only would I be SEEN, I'd run the risk of being singled out or, worse, asked to do something. My intention was to remain as inconspicuous as possible, no easy feat in a room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that surrounded the room.
Most of the other guys were the previously mentioned interviewees. As potential instructors, these fellows seemed relaxed and at ease. They looked fit and confidently stretched their muscles to warm up. I, on the hand, embarrassed by both my lack of development and ability, stubbornly remained in my fleece sweatshirt. Despite the six-pack confidence of the guys, I was reassured by the variety of female body type - everything from pepper-pot to super model. Eventually, after nearly passing out from the heat, I removed my sweatshirt.
When the instructors entered the room, I knew I was in deep trouble. One was pleasant... the other one scared me. She was short (like 5 foot); she had short, bright red hair with blond streaks and she was built like a tank. She sported an Ultimate Fighting Championship sweatshirt and fingerless cage-fighter gloves. She walked around the room, sizing up the men who had dared enter her lair. "And who do you belong to?" she asked as she squeezed my hand. Afraid my voice would crack, betraying my fear, I nodded at my wife.
The music started and people spread out a safe arm's (or leg's) distance from their closest neighbour. After a brief warning about watching out for other people's feet, we began with running on the spot and some simple punching combinations. I was all right for a little while, but was soon lost in a Busby Berkley nightmare of punching and kicking. The little red tank occasionally came down from the front to "encourage" those of us who appeared hopelessly lost. While I never managed to follow the routine, I tried to keep moving, relying heavily on my wife's under-the-breath directions ("Go left") to keep me from ploughing into someone or, worse, being ploughed into.
After 35 minutes or so, the little red tank instructed us on something she called "The street fighting head punch."
"The punch starts over your head and comes all the way down to just past your knees. Feet apart. Use your non-punching hand like your holding him by the collar or the hair. It's like you're punching some sucker who's on the ground in the face. Now I want to see full extension on those punches. No wimpy shoulder level punches - full extension. Or I'm coming out there to get you!"
Needless to say, my punches were extended as fully as humanly possible. Anything to stave off the wrath of the little red tank.
After 50 minutes of high-energy aerobics, we "cooled off" with the most painful push up exercises I have ever done. The little red tank shouted to us as she took the push up position, "Now I want to see all you guys on your toes. Proper form." Now I can do push ups pretty well, but I was just this side of heart-attack city. Still, I was more afraid of the little red tank than a coronary episode. I started out on my toes and started doing the push ups.
"Don't," I heard Rachel whisper to me. "You'll kill yourself. Do them on your knees." Worried that knee push ups (or "girls push ups") would incur the tank's wrath, I looked up to see if she could spot me from her position. I scanned the room and found none of the other guys, not a one of them, was doing toe push ups. Every single one of them was on his knees. Confident that there were 6 or 7 guys closer to the front that the tank could pick on if she chose, I dropped to my knees.
As we were driving home, I told my wife how impressed with her I was. She regularly does two classes on Saturday and here I was as close to suicide as I've ever come after one.
I'm sure part of reason behind Rachel asking me to show off just how fit she is. Unfortunately, going I would be showing off just how unfit I am. I have no trouble admitting that my wife is my physical superior. She's been working out for awhile. She can run further and faster, push more, squat, curl, whatever. Some people might think this speaks to my own laziness. I like to think of it as "progress."
We arrived early and I suggested staking out a spot at the back of the room. If I was going to embarrass myself (and, let's face it, that was assuredly going to happen) I would like a little privacy. At the front of the class, not only would I be SEEN, I'd run the risk of being singled out or, worse, asked to do something. My intention was to remain as inconspicuous as possible, no easy feat in a room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that surrounded the room.
Most of the other guys were the previously mentioned interviewees. As potential instructors, these fellows seemed relaxed and at ease. They looked fit and confidently stretched their muscles to warm up. I, on the hand, embarrassed by both my lack of development and ability, stubbornly remained in my fleece sweatshirt. Despite the six-pack confidence of the guys, I was reassured by the variety of female body type - everything from pepper-pot to super model. Eventually, after nearly passing out from the heat, I removed my sweatshirt.
When the instructors entered the room, I knew I was in deep trouble. One was pleasant... the other one scared me. She was short (like 5 foot); she had short, bright red hair with blond streaks and she was built like a tank. She sported an Ultimate Fighting Championship sweatshirt and fingerless cage-fighter gloves. She walked around the room, sizing up the men who had dared enter her lair. "And who do you belong to?" she asked as she squeezed my hand. Afraid my voice would crack, betraying my fear, I nodded at my wife.
The music started and people spread out a safe arm's (or leg's) distance from their closest neighbour. After a brief warning about watching out for other people's feet, we began with running on the spot and some simple punching combinations. I was all right for a little while, but was soon lost in a Busby Berkley nightmare of punching and kicking. The little red tank occasionally came down from the front to "encourage" those of us who appeared hopelessly lost. While I never managed to follow the routine, I tried to keep moving, relying heavily on my wife's under-the-breath directions ("Go left") to keep me from ploughing into someone or, worse, being ploughed into.
After 35 minutes or so, the little red tank instructed us on something she called "The street fighting head punch."
"The punch starts over your head and comes all the way down to just past your knees. Feet apart. Use your non-punching hand like your holding him by the collar or the hair. It's like you're punching some sucker who's on the ground in the face. Now I want to see full extension on those punches. No wimpy shoulder level punches - full extension. Or I'm coming out there to get you!"
Needless to say, my punches were extended as fully as humanly possible. Anything to stave off the wrath of the little red tank.
After 50 minutes of high-energy aerobics, we "cooled off" with the most painful push up exercises I have ever done. The little red tank shouted to us as she took the push up position, "Now I want to see all you guys on your toes. Proper form." Now I can do push ups pretty well, but I was just this side of heart-attack city. Still, I was more afraid of the little red tank than a coronary episode. I started out on my toes and started doing the push ups.
"Don't," I heard Rachel whisper to me. "You'll kill yourself. Do them on your knees." Worried that knee push ups (or "girls push ups") would incur the tank's wrath, I looked up to see if she could spot me from her position. I scanned the room and found none of the other guys, not a one of them, was doing toe push ups. Every single one of them was on his knees. Confident that there were 6 or 7 guys closer to the front that the tank could pick on if she chose, I dropped to my knees.
As we were driving home, I told my wife how impressed with her I was. She regularly does two classes on Saturday and here I was as close to suicide as I've ever come after one.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I"ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
.... a couple more performances with this amazing cast.
The house music is playing, Val's almost ready to address the audience, and we're ready, READY to take the stage one last time and tell this story. Last night's performance was plagued with problems - some minor, some not so minor (a major character having a nosebleed on stage would fall in the later category). But we got through. Few people noticed.
I have to go.
It's time.
The house music is playing, Val's almost ready to address the audience, and we're ready, READY to take the stage one last time and tell this story. Last night's performance was plagued with problems - some minor, some not so minor (a major character having a nosebleed on stage would fall in the later category). But we got through. Few people noticed.
I have to go.
It's time.
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