A Stolen Time-Waster

1. FULL NAME: Andrew John Root

2.AGE: 22.

3.BIRTHDAY: January 29, 1983.

4.BIRTHPLACE: Peterborough, Ontario

5.FAVOURITE BAND/SINGER: The White Stripes

6.WHAT GIVES YOU GOOSEBUMPS: Knowing that a really good part is coming up in a movie I've seen only once before.

7.DREAM VEHICLE: My white Buick Roadmaster Station Wagon isn't dreamy enough? Is that what you're saying?

8.DREAM TRAVEL DESTINATION: Ireland, aka the Emerald Isle. A mysterious force beckons me.

9.FAVOURITE FOOD: Shepherd's pie holds a certain place within my heart.

10.FAVOURITE SMELL: Breakfast

11.LANGUAGE YOU'D LIKE TO LEARN: Russian or German.

12. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO RETIRE: I plan to have the kind of job that doesn't require retiring.

13. DO YOU WISH ON STARS: Not anymore.

14. FAVOURITE DRINK: Guiness, but only from an authentically stolen Guiness pint glass.

15. FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK: Comfortable Pirate. It's a real drink!

16. FAVOURITE SEASON: Late summer/early fall.

17. FAVOURITE MOVIE: I'll get back to you on that one.

18.WHAT INSPIRES YOU: The hard work of others.

19. MOST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU'VE EVER RECEIVED: I just got a guitar which was pretty kick-ass. Also the complete Calvin and Hobbes. I have awesome people around me.

20. FAVOURITE SUMMER ACTIVITIES: It has occurred to me that driving with the windows down is particularly pleasant. Though I do not enjoy driving just for the sake of driving. You've got to be going somewhere.

21.FAVOURITE WINTER ACTIVITIES: Anything involving a fire.

22.ONE WORD TO DESCRIBE YOURSELF: tepid

23.BEST TRIP YOU'VE BEEN ON: LA last summr was fun. It was the first time I'd been left to my own devices on a trip.

24.PET PEEVE: People who form opinions without knowing all the facts, and then voice those opinions loudly and often.

25.NAMES FOR CHILDREN THAT YOU LIKE: Wednesday.

26. FAVOURITE BOOK: I've read Catch-22 about three times and enjoyed it every time, so I guess that counts.

27.FIRST PET: Pupper the Beagle.

28.NAME SOMEONE WHO YOU CAN TELL EVERYTHING TO. I MEAN UTTERLY AND COMPLETELY CONFIDE IN: Jenny... duh...

29. DREAM JOB: Award winning novelist.

30. SAY SOMETHING GREAT ABOUT THE PERSON WHOSE BLOG YOU STOLE THIS FROM: Cathy was nice enough to have a conversation about the correct pronounciation of "laboratory" with me in the hall, even though we don't really know each other. I feel creepy. Am I creepy?

Free writing # ?

Bile built up in the back of his throat. He felt like crying and vomiting at once. In an attempt to breath deeply, he only caused himself a minor hysteria as he took in several short, deep breaths within seconds. He coughed, the kind of cough which immediately follows an intense vomit. He stumbled and thought to himself "This is silly. I need to calm down. What am I getting upset for?"

A million answers flew into his brain like a flock of insane birds, swooping and shrieking. The din they made was unbearable, but unmistakable. He knew exactly why he was upset. She was supposed to be his.

Bile again, and this time he did vomit. It spilled through his fingers onto the carpet and he choked on the acid taste as he tried to keep it in his mouth. This only made it spill out more. He moved to the sink, but the worst was over. Turning on the tap, he gulped water, spitting it out quickly. He reached under the sink for paper towels but as he couldn't find them his reach became a grope, and his hand closed on an unused lightbulb. The bulb shattered in his hand and blood ran down his fingers.

He cursed loudly, frightening his dog who shrank into a corner. "It's ok, honey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. You're alright. You're alright." The dog only shrank further into the corner, tucking its tail further between its legs. He pulled a shard of glass out of his hand and tried to remember whether he'd need a shot for this type of cut. Was there mercury in this type of bulb? Another shard, another pinch as the glass withdrew. He turned on the tap with his good hand and tried to remember if it was hot of cold water that he needed. He decided on cold, but it stung so he switched to hot which burned. The dog had snuck away to lick at the pool of vomit which was sinking into the carpet.

A song played on the radio. A booming voice announced that "nobody knows you, and nobody gives a damn" and he stood there sobbing. The blood from his hand, encouraged by the water began to flow again and drip onto the kitchen floor. He looked again for the paper towels, but saw that there were none. What time was it?

He rinsed his hand once again and wiped it with a dark towel then covered his cuts with childrens band-aids, the only kind in the cabinet. He wondered about ointment as he put on his coat. A lump in his throat became insistant so he walked quickly out the door and breathed slowly and deeply. The night was clear and cold and the sky was a deep navy. No stars.

A car whizzed past him and he felt a pain behind his eyes. Quickly glancing around him and seeing no one there, he threw his arms down at his sides, tossed his head back and bellowed at the sky. He doubled over and shouted again, a deep, primitave, wordless scream. There was snot running freely out of his nose and tears in the corners of his eyes as he straightened himself up and tried to look presentable in case anyone came around the corner.

His hands hurt from clenching and he had neglected to put any gloves on. Pain pain pain from every direction seemed to be flowing into his body, his fingers especially. His mind raced with images of her being kissed by him, carressed by him, entered by him. He coughed again and doubled over as if suffering severe abdominal pain. Through his teeth a desperate cry tried to loose itself, but seemed to be strangled by his tongue which would not give it shape. More bile, more pain.

He went to a bar, but they would not serve him, thinking him to be "unstable." He had shouted and broken a glass. The management had been called. He walked by a church and sat sobbing on its steps, until a policeman came by and told him that he couldn't sit there. So he returned home.

He stripped naked and got into the shower. The hot water flowed over him, turning his skin a vibrant red. He got into bed and called to his dog who, apparently, had forgotten her recent terror. She snuggled up next to him and he put his arm around her and squeezed tightly. "I love you so much," he said to her. She twisted and licked his face, then lay still. Exhausted, he fell asleep.

In the morning the sun streamed through the window. He woke and the dog was gone. She had gotten over heated during the night. He sat up and his mind was a blank. He wondered what the day of the week was, and why his hand was hurting. He looked across the room to a plant on the window sill and he remembered. His arm collapsed under his weight and he fell onto the pillow, fingers clutching the blanket, eyes wide, knees pulled into his chest. He was like a baby with no mother to comfort him. No, she had gone to another.

He lay this way for a long time without blinking. Then he squeezed his eyes tightly, released his fingers, took a deep breath, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes until they hurt and he saw gold designs inside his eyelids. Then he stood up and made himself a pot of tea.

Wow. A whole week gone by

So I sez to Mable, I sez...

Merry Whatever-you-celebrate! This marks the first year that I have felt markedly uncomfortable attending the usual xmas eve services at my dad's church. My brother in Law and I snickered all through communion about how the tiny glasses of grape juice made us feel like giants, and how running my finger along the edge of the glass was playing the xmas hymns rather than the organ. Our snickering set off my sister, so the three of us incurred many looks of wrath and doom from my mother. This year I even felt uncomfortable saying "Merry Christmas" to people! Zoinks! I don't think I qualify as an aetheist per se, because I don't firmly disbelieve in God or gods of any type, but I just never think about it really. I delight in all things blasphemous, but mainly because I just like irking the strongly held beliefs of people who can't accept change. I've always said that people with firm convictions make me nervous, and that holds true.

That being said, it was nice to see the fam again. It took a record 4 days until all the reasons that I left home in the first place started creeping in. My family is pretty cool and I'd be hard pressed to convince some pople that they are very irritating, but like most families it's easier to see the faults from within. I made out like a damn bandit this year, for which I felt a little guilty because I don't really need some of this stuff, but very grateful overall. I also confirmed the long-held opinion that my sister knows very little about me when I recieved $20 cash in a card as her present to me. I heard someone say the following at some point:

Cash is the second worst present you can give to someone, because it basically says "I don't know anything about you. Go make yourself happy and leave me out of it." The worst present you can get someone is a gift certificate, because it's just like cash, but you can only spend it in one place.

At least a gift certificate says that you have some inkling of what the person might like. Jenny spoiled me rotten with my very own sock monkey and a guitar! A freakin' guitar! (Picture of sock monkey playing guitar to follow) The monkey's name is Clyde Forgotten. Nice ring? I thought so. "Teh Jenner" also got me a faboo book called "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathan Safran Foer. It's great. You should read it. Now. It's everything you want in a drug store. I got myself a few CD's that I've been wanting to pick up, including the likes of Blind Willie McTell, Leadbelly, and Son House aka the men who inspired Jack White to take up the blues. I figured if Ol' Jacky Boy can rant and rave about how great they are, I figure I may as well check 'em out. It's true that Son House sounds a little like Lyle from Napoleon Dynamite, but damn. Damn damn damn, that is good stuff. Which brings me to the lyric of the week:

Don't you mind people grinnin' in your face
Don't you mind people grinnin' in your face
Your mother will talk about you
Your sister and your brother too
No matter how you try to live
They're gonna talk about you still
So don't you mind people grinnin' in your face

It's amazing that Blind Willie was blind when he learned how to play the guitar. He's got one song called "Atlanta Strut" which is just about different ways that people walk and different sounds. Basically it's this:

I had to go downstairs, you know
And I go down stairs like this:
[guitar lick indicating walking downstairs]

I heard a rooster crow one time
and he crowed like this:
[guitar lick indicating rooster crowing]

And Leadbelly spent over 30 yeas in jail for killing one guy and stabbing another! I wonder if these guys are like the modern day equivalent of 50 Cent and 2-Pac (Tupac? Two-Pack?). I'd love to see a knife fight between Leadbelly and Nelly. That would solve so many problems with the world. Tupac Shakur is totally alive, by the way. There is no way that he had 15 albums worth of unrecorded material to be posthumastely released.

I think I've officially derailed. But I'm kind of out of steam anyhoo, so here are three pictures which sum up xmas '05 for me.

There are eight people, two dogs, and a cat hidden in this picture! Try to find them all!


If you look carefully, you'll notice that only one of these four people know there's a camera present.


The kid and I.


And one final note: It is a damn good thing there's lots of sugar in the house right now.

Lyric of the week.

I forgot to do a lyric of the week. Here it is anyways:

Modern world I'm not pleased to meet you
You just bring me down

2 x 0 = ?

Today of all days (and it's not even afternoon yet... barely) I have accomplished an incredible deal. I am now Smart Serve certified, which means I can use "no more force than is necessary" to boot people out of an establishment. Then I can get sued for it! (Sidenote: The number of things you can be sued for is ridiculous. Things completely out of your control make you liable. Stupid system.) I also ensured that I will be left alone at work for the next several hours! How's that, you ask? Well, when something needs to be transferred from Access to Excel, the least efficient way to do that is to make a hard copy and then enter all the information again manually. The most efficient to do that is to copy and paste. "The Man" wanted me to do it the first way, because they were convinced that the second way wouldn't work. Man, do I ever have free time now!

I guess that's only two. But as compared to yesterday when I spent the entire day in my jammie-jams mostly watching Friends while Stephie cleaned her apartment around me, that's a pretty damn huge improvement!

Today is the 22nd of December, which means that tomorrow morning I will be driving to Peterborough to see the fam! Jenny & I are doing our gift exchange before we leave, and I think it's safe to say that I'm pretty excited about it. Nora and possibly Xerox are coming to the Patch avec moi, but I need to find someone to feed the fish and a cranky chameleon for a few days. Any takers? There's $$$ in it for you!!! Well, maybe not "$$$"... more realistically something like "$".

My mechanic is slow slow slow. It constantly amazes me that a "20 minute job" can last for 36 hours. Meh. He does quality work, but the waiting is a pain in the ass. Hopefully the car will have heat and all will be well in the Buickverse.

Sitting and waiting for this page to load, I saw the "Word verification" feature to block spammers. It then occurred to me that I haven't been spammed in forever and a day! Whoa! I'm just going to go ahead and assume that they stopped spamming the really awesome and influential sites. Y'know... because they're so great.

And what's all this jargle I've been hearing about having a "point" to posts, or them being about "one thought only." If this was meant to be organized or professional, it sure as shit wouldn't be on the Inter Net!

bleah.

The Passion of that guy on the pyramid.

I just saw the trailer for "Apocalypto." My response was "Hmmmmm.... Don't believe I've ever seen a nude pregnant woman in a preview before."

The part that I found the funniest was that they announced that the film was made by "Mel Gibson: Academy Award Winning Director of Braveheart and The Passion of The Christ." Look; We all know who Mel Gibson is. Honestly, we're not so out of touch. I was a little disappointed that they didn't show him sporting his new Hussein beard though. That would have been prime.

I don't think I really need to explain this

Click for a bigger view

The sound of teeth chattering

The seat

of the toilet

in the basement

of the art gallery

where I work

is goddamn freezing.

Still sleepy after all these months

I know I've posted this before, but it still applies, damn it! Hands down my favourite Beatles song.

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink
No,no,no.

I'm so tired I don't know what to do
I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should I call you but I know what you would do

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset
Although I'm so tired I'll have another cigarette
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh
He was such a stupid git.

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind
I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind
I'd give you everything I've got for a little peace of mind
(mumbling)

It took 3 hours to sum up 14 days

1) Essays
2) Exams
3) Movies
a) King Kong
b) Syriana
c) Narnia
4) Kirsten
5) Xmas
6) Hamlet
7) Election
8) Xmas party

I haven't been able to sit down and actually write about life the universe and everything for quite a while due to a hectic schedule, but that has recently cleared right up after my final exam yesterday afternoon (more on that later). So here's the rundown as it stands. Feel free to jump between sections as you see fit. Heck, don't even read it if you don't want to. I'm pretty sure you're all imaginary anyways.

1) The Tragic Tale of Andrew's Essay(s): This story begins with my schedule being ridiculously full during the last 2 weeks of school, what with every single prof still firmly refusing to acknowledge that there are a million things due on the same day. Plus with work closing for renovations it meant increasingly late nights and no will to stay awake during the days. Anyhoo.... I had 2 essays due and one seminar presentation in one week. One essay on Dorothy Parker, one on Anton Chekhov, one presentation on Chekhov. The Parker essay posed the most problems because it was due on a Tuesday following a weekend in Toronto. So I asked for a week's extension, eventually finished it, put it on a disk to bring to the school to print it (sidenote: printers don't work so well when your dog chews the cables off), only to find that the disk was ridiculously corrupted with about 9 viruses. Did I mention it was my only copy of the essay? So I spent the better part of that night and the next day trying desperately to remember just what the hell I had written, as well as being really frustrated because I had totally washed my hands of the project and simultaneously falling behind on the other projects which needed handing in. Oh well. It's over and done with, and I got a 76, which isn't too bad, considering.

2) Exams: Two exams this semester, one went well while the other went horridly. Modern Women's Writing....grrrrr!!! Why do they all have to have such similar names? (Cather, Bonner, Spenser, Parker) This accurately represents how well I think I did on that one. Meh. The Chekhov exam went really well. I was done in an hour and five minutes and was the first one out of the entire gym. Creepy, let me tell you. It wasn't that it was a particularly easy exam, I just had no trouble writing it. The end of another semester. The guys who run the parking control need to lighten up.

3) Movies: I didn't even realize it, but I went to the movies three nights in a row this week. First to The Chronicles of Narnia on Tuesday, then Syriana on Wednesday, and on Thursday King Kong. Impressions anyone?

a) King Kong: This makes two Peter Jackson movies in a row which made me walk out of the theatre with a sensational high, where all I can do for the next few hours is say "Man, that was really great!" There were a million moments where I had my hand over my mouth, was on the edge of my seat, or sunk ridiculously far into it. The entire first hour took a while to get chugging along, and I'm glad I made a bathroom break (one of the only times I've ever done that), because I wouldn't have been able to find a suitable place to go after that, but Naomi Watts' scream when she first sees Kong made it all worth it. I realized the terror that had been brewing for sixy minutes was entirely justified. The moment which completely captured me was Kong's embarrasment after a rock hits him in the head. I remember thinking "Boy, that's a long shot to have of just his face," but the emotion was entirely palpable. As for "wow's" there is a long long list. Kong's dispatching of the final T-Rex, all of the perspective shots from the Empire State Building (which all but made me black out. I don't like heights.), the insanely creepy witch woman on the island to name a few. There are a few cheesy moments, like Kong sliding on the ice in New York or the ridiculously slow typing out of "S"..... "K"...... "U"...... "L"....... "L", but the friendship between Ann Darrow and the ape rang entirely true. If acting awards were given out based on technical merits, Naomi Watts should win hands down. Her relationship with an entirely digital creation is the heart and soul of this movie and it was completely undoubtable.

b) Syriana: It wasn't until afterwards that I fully grasped what this movie was about, and rightly so, I think. That was part of it's charm is that so many things are happening at once that it's impossible to see all the tiny connecting strands between each story, but they could not exist without each other. This movie slowly confirmed my opinions about (some) politicians; people are not important. Being in charge of people is what's important. (ever wonder why that show froma few years back about the honest congressman didn't last long?) It was scary to see the influence and power that a company can have (even if I was having a hard time not making puns with their names). I loved the slowburn realization that I got while watching and discussing this movie.

c) The Chronicles of Narnia: I might have enjoyed this more had I been abl to stop comparing it with Lord of the Rings. But then, why wouldn't I compare the two? Very enjoyable, and Lucy Pevensie was ridiculously cute as buttons. There wasn't enough time spent on character development, unfortunately, because there are a buttload of characters to go through. "Are you with me.... uh... centaur whose name I never got around to learning?" "To the death!" I had my doubts about Tilda Swinton at first. I was really excited when I saw her in the previews, but I was a little underwhelmed by her performace near the beginning. The dress she was wearing did not help either. She looked teeny tiny inside of it, which detracted from her grace and power. It wasn't until the battle scene when she was fluidly dispatching centaurs left and right that I became terrified of her. She seemed a little petulant up until that point. The kids did a pretty decent job, considering for a few of them this was their first movie. Edmund looked a little awkward in his armour, and Peter looked a little bit like Kirsten Humbert, which brings me to my next point:

4) Kirsten: I seem to have the most interesting and random meetings with Kirsten. After my final exam yesterday, I had an hour to kill, so I went to the Buddha to visit Jenny. Kirsten was working too, and we had a few off-centre conversations involving New Year's kissing etiquette and how to make someone fall in love with you. When it was time to go we exchanged hugs and while Kirsten & I were hugging, Jenny said "Now rub your boobs together!" So we did (although my boobs pale in comparision... y'know... because I don't have the advantage of estrogen). The look on Ms. Humbert's face was priceless. It was something along the lines of "I'm being forced to do this and I'm not enjoying it, but I'll still keep doing it and maybe it won't be so bad after all!" Now I'll just cross that off he list of things to do before I die, and add it to the list of things to do again before I die. Thanks Kirsten! You're fun!

5) Xmas: 'Tis the season! I'm done all my shopping, none of my wrapping, and I'm going to watch some xmas movies with friends tonight! WOOT! It'll be nice to be home for a few days. All my sibs will be there with their significant ohers, but Jenny's in Fort Erie (understandibly so), so I'll have to make Nora my girlfriend for xmas morning. One issue: Dad asked me to take part in the xmas service at church. He wants me to do the part of a shepherd with Mary and Joseph and the whole bit. How do I mention that this does not sync up with my own beliefs, not to mention makes me a little uncomfortable? The thing is that I know he's a little stuck, not to mention stressed out. It also means memorizing some lines, and I already have about 1500 to do for the play. Grrr.... decisions, decisions. I think I'll see if he can find anyone else, and if not I'll do it. By the way, writing "xmas" isn't representative of my religious beliefs, it's just faster.

6) Hamlet: I've got the script, so now I have to memorize it. I used up an entire highlighter marking my lines, so I'm a little daunted right now, but I've got the first three down pat already! Laertes and I have completed our swordfighting training, so I know how to kill both him and the king. It'll be fun! I can see how force-feeding poison is going to work now. Now I just have to make sure I can remember the technique!

*Ahem*
1) A little more than kin and less than kind
2) Not so my lord, I am too much i' th' sun.
3) Ay, Madam. It it common.

7) Election: Apparently there's an election coming up soon. I don't really care too too much. I find that I'm accutely aware that all the political parties are trying to work me over, and I feel a little roughed up. It seems to be a case of "Look what a horrible job these guys are doing! You DESERVE better!" or "Look at all the stuff we've accomplished! We did it for YOU!" or "The NDP are Satan incarnate! GIVE US YOUR MONEY!" It all seems so petty and unfocussed. They don't particularly care about any issues, but only in staying in power. Bah.

8) Xmas Party: I had my xmas party for the bingo hall on Wednesday night. I thought we were all going to have dinner and get drunk, then pass out poorly planned Kris Kringle gifts. Boy was I wrong! I walked out of there with $120 in gift certificates! Merry Xmas to ME!

I'm out of time. There. Everything that's been on my mind for a while, but all of the above was taking place, so there was no time to reflect. But now I can start reading "The Wars" which I borrowed from Liz about an aeon ago. Maybe more. Who can tell with all the flux?

And so, good day.

The Giant Gorilla Blues

Just today I was doing the usual rounds on the ol' Inter Net when I came across Angelo's site. I had to stop myself after reading the first line of his King Kong review becasue I hadn't seen the movie yet. Well, I just got back from seeing King Kong, so I read the full review. This may be one of those things that we just have to agree never mention to each other because we'll break into a bitter arguement at a cocktail party and make the atmosphere really tense.

I loved the film. I don't know what all this business is about "tedious reliance on slow-motion to convey any emotion or major plot point." Did we see the same movie? So it takes a long time to get to the heart of the matter, so what? Is "Beauty is wonderful" such a terrible message? Not to mention that there are others aspects to the film beyond just that simple reduction. Naomi Watt's scream alone is worth the entire three hours.

I don't know. I want to rip into everything criticized, but that's petty and based on my own opinion. But man, come on. Did you seriously think that absolutely nothing was good about this movie? Did you really think that it was nothing more than a special effects mash-up with nothing behind it? Even your hero, Ebert the Mighty liked the flick! Maybe we could set up a panel discussion or something.

Objectively though, what "blatantly racist themes?" Images maybe, but even then that's stretching it.

Arg! I need to go to bed. I HATE THIS INTER NET! It makes me so mad, because all I can do vent and vent and vent and not get any response for at least a day or so. DAMN!

LONG LIVE KONG!

"E" words....

I've finished and handed in my final essay of the term, and it's about 2 hours and 10 minutes until my first of two exams. I've lost control of the project. My mind refuses to care. My notes reveal nothing about course content. In fact my entire set of notes from "Wide Sargasso Sea" is just an apology to myself for not taking notes. I wonder if I thought I would find it funny. I've got just about zero idea what this exam will cover. I know the structure, but based on that all the preparation I can make is to know the entire course by heart. Damn shit hell-fuck.

I got my first sword fighting lesson for Hamlet yesterday. A genie taught me. He gave the most horrific description of what it feels like to be stabbed that I could vomit at any moment. I doubt my ability to remember everything he said, mainly because we ran through everything once and then he would say "And now that you know how to lunge, we're going to learn how to parry." Confusion sets in and my brain buzzes. The satisfaction of killing Michael Emond gives way to wondering if I'm killing him in the right position. One of the main things to do is supress the natural instinct to keep a three foot blade as far away from my face as possible.

I need to get in shape. I don't know the best way to do this. I've set myself up with some music for warming up to, and tried it out once to see if it would work. It worked better than I had expected. I'm setting myself up with a warm-up schedule, so I should be able to set up a "getting in shape" schedule. I don't want to be a paunchy, shlumpy Hamlet. The music selected is as follows:

1) Untitled #1 - Sigur Ros from the album ( ) <----for relaxation
2) Svefn-g-englar - Sigur Ros from the album Ágætis Byrjun <-----also for relaxation
3) He Lied About Death - Star from the album Set Yourself on Fire <----to start me thinking about death and to get energized.

Following this, I need to run through the swordplay as many times as possible, all the while running through my lines. I expect this will all take about 1/2 an hour to 45 minutes. Finally I'll have something to do in those two hours between call and show rather than sit and fret over some inarticulate feeling of unease. Remember Dolly Barrow!

I also need a hair cut. That is another project I have lost control of. The damn stuff just does what it pleases, and what it pleases is mostly what makes me look like a vagbond. I have definately lost control of the project. I'm getting it cut short, so that in time for the show it will be the length it is now, but I'll have been working with it for three months so it'll do what I say. I hope this doesn't freak Ian out. Persnaps I'll send him an email about it.

Blah. Exam time. HULK SMASH! Just saying that horrid "e" word drains me of the will to carry on. Remind me to tell you the tragic tale of Andrew's Essay at some point.

What's the opposite of Christopher Reeves?

If you like those "Children's Letters to God" that have little Jeffy asking why giraffes look so funny, then this will explode your mind.

Children's Letters to Christopher Walken

Here's a sample:



That one's from little Noah in New York.

Lyric of the week.

Because I don't have time to come up with anything of my own (and won't until next friday) here's the lyric of the week:

Time is like a broken watch
I make money like Fred Astaire

Seven days later....

Stolen from here

1: The Lord God built the world in seven days!

2: Obviously! There's black holes and asteroids everywhere, reality is impossible to comprehend; every aspect of existence is utterly terrifying.

1: The Lord works in mysterious ways.

2: Don't tell me you wouldn't fire a contractor who used that as an excuse.

*****************

I could write a deconstructionist essay on Loretta Lynn's "God Makes No Mistakes" from Van Lear Rose (which is a very good album)

Why, I've heard people say
Why is this tree bent
Why they don't have God enough to know
Thats' the way that it was meant
why is this little baby born
all twisted and out of shape
We're not to question what he does
God makes no mistakes

Why I've heard people say
Why is my child blind
Why is that old drunk still livin
When a daddy like mine is dyin
our blessed father gives us life
has the power to take it away
There's no reason for what he does
God makes no mistakes

Why I've heard people say
God cannot be alive
And all the things people say
Has to be a lie
When they're down and out
And they need a hand
And their very souls at stake
If they'll call on him and just beleive
God makes no mistakes

Hmm.... bitterness?

A, B, or Sleep?

Here are my options for today:

1) Start writing an essay for Chekhov class.

2) Walk over to the Buddha to pick up the car, then drive to the mall and try to shop for people, including a co-worker I know nothing about. Why, oh why did I enter a Kris Kringle?

3) None of the above. I could sit and stare into space, or start on my holiday reading which would be entirely counter-productive.

**********

I eventually chose option 2.

Edmund Who?

I have been asked to play Hamlet in Thorneloe's production of... well, of Hamlet.

I am scared out of my wits.

I am excited to work with many fine, talented actors including Luke as Horatio/Player, and Stephie as Ophelia/2nd Gravedigger. This will mark the first time that Steph and I have worked together in four years of shared acting classes. Not even a warm-up together and now we're thrown into this melancholy mess.

I'm going to work harder on this show than anything I've ever done before. School? Pah! Sleep? Over-rated! Proper nutrition? For weenies!

At least I couldn't be worse than Kenneth "SHOUTING EQUALS EMOTION!!!" Branaugh.

So to sum up.....

Me = Hamlet = freaked out = not Kenneth

Store High In Transit

And everything seemed to be going so well...

Last night ended with me finishing my essay about Dorothy Parker's persona. I got a week's extension which is now up. I was to hand it in this morning at 8:30.

8:20 is when I realized that the one and only copy of this essay is stored deep within the confines of a highly corrupted disk. This has moved me to profanity.

So now instead of moving steadily along to an essay on Chekhov, I have to try to remember this piece of Store High In Transit essay which I have already completely washed my hands of.

Laura Dern it all to heck.

No myth-taking!

In a flurry of handing things in and giving presentations, somewhere along the line I forgot the love. No, that's not true, I just slipped into a random quotation from somewhere in my past. I watched too much television as a youth. But I digress.

In a flurry of handing things in and giving presentations, I had forgotten about the myth I wrote for Greek Mythology (CLAS 2005). Can you believe this was an actual assignment? "Write a myth which can be interpreted in two of the ways we've studied." No length requirement? Me like, much much! So, I got it back in the mail (because it's a correspondence course. Note: I don't even care if that's how you spell "correspondence"), and I was pretty terrified because I forgot I had submitted anything, and just why was Laurentian mailing me a big letter?

Anyway, before I continue with the story, I need to thank Luke for letting me run ideas for presentations and papers by him at random moments when I'm sure he's supposed to be working, as was done with this myth. Yay Luke!

So there's this envelope: And in it is my returned myth. And on said myth is a fairly decent mark which I am happy with. So here's the myth:

Legend:

Elephas = Elephants
Pithèkos = Monkeys
Pater Elephantos = Father Elephant
Mèter Elephantos = Mother Elephant
Anthropopithèkos = Ape
Nearos Elephantos = Young Elephant
Andras = Man
Gynaika = Woman
Nipiothèkis = baby monkeys
Pstemata = Bull (ie/ Bull elephant)
Maimou = Monkey
Apo = Under/Sub

**************************************

On an island there lived two tribes of humans; the Elephas and the Pithèkos. While they were both humans, they were of very different races and had very different appearances. The Elephas were very tall and fat. They were slow moving and prone to anger, but when provoked they could charge their enemy at surprising speed. The Elephas were also very intelligent and - despite their bad tempers - seldom resorted to violence because they feared the wrath of the gods, Psemata and Maimou who maintaind the balance of the island. The Elephas were ruled over by a vain king and queen named Pater Elephantos and Mèter Elephantos.

On the other side of the island lived the Pithèkos, a race of small hairy humans with tails. The Pithèkos were very quick and mischievous and they loved to play tricks on the Elephas. The chief of the Pithèkos was Anthropopithèkos, and he was chief because his tail was the longest and most powerful of the tribe. The Elephas and Pithèkos lived on the island in peace, just so long as neither strayed into the others territory.

The Elephas disliked the Pithèkos because they thought of them as loud and dirty, whereas the Elephas viewed bathing as an almost sacred ritual which took place in the same pool every morning without fail, and Mèter Elephantos was always the first into and last out of the bathing pool. Meanwhile, the Pithèkos viewed the Elephas as spoiled brutes who were overly proud. Both tribes had lived on the island for as long as they could remember, and while they did not like their neighbors, both groups were reluctant to leave.

One day a young Elephas named Nearos Elephantos wandered into the Pithèkos territory by accident. For a time she went unnoticed, until she came on Andras, Anthropopithèkos’ son, who was sleeping in the shade. Nearos Elephantos had never seen a Pithèkos before and she did not know what to make of Andras’ long tail. She was very startled by it, thinking it to be a snake and so she took up a branch and smote the Pithèkos’ tail. Andras yelped in pain and when he saw that he was being attacked by an Elephas he quickly scampered to tell Anthropopithèkos about what had happened.

Anthropopithèkos was enraged by the trespassing and attack on one of his own tribe, let alone his own son. Especially insulting was the crippling of Andras’ tail. Without a long and powerful tail, he would be unable to attract a mate, and would be shunned by the other Pithèkos. Andras was renamed Gynaika and sent to care for and raise the young nipiothèkis. Anthropopithèkos cursed the Elephas and immediately began plotting revenge. It was not long before he came up with a plan. Entering the Pithèkos’ holiest temple, he prayed to Psemata and Maimou, the gods of the island. He told them that the Pithèkos had become infested with lice and desperately needed a cure. Psemata and Maimou took pity on the Pithèkos and gave a phial of liquid to Anthropopithèkos. The liquid was to be poured on the lice which would make them shrivel up. Anthropopithèkos thanked and praised the gods and returned to his tribe.

That night Anthropopithèkos crept into the Elephas territory with the phial of liquid that the gods had given him. He swiftly and silently made his way to the bathing pool and poured every last drop into the water. When the phial was empty he ran back to the Pithèkos territory as fast as he could, laughing to himself.

When the sun rose the next morning, as always, Mèter Elephantos woke early and slid comfortably into the warm waters of the bathing pool. All the other Elephas followed suit shortly after and began the ritual of washing every inch of their bodies. Anthropopithèkos and several other Pithèkos watched from the trees, barely able to stifle their laughter. Suddenly Mèter Elephantos shrieked. All the other Elephas turned to see what had happened to their queen and they saw that her skin had become wrinkled all over and was quickly turning a dull shade of grey. A few of the younger Elephas snickered at their queen, and a few others muttered that it served her right for being so vain. But all snickering and muttering quickly stopped when the skin of every single Elephas began to wrinkle and turn grey, from the youngest to the oldest.

Loud bursts of jeering guffaws came from the trees and the Elephas turned to see the Pithèkos rolling with laughter on the branches. Pater Elephantos let out a deafening bellow and charged at the tree in which Anthropopithèkos was sitting. He crashed into the trunk headfirst and with a loud crack the tree split and fell. Pater Elephantos seized Anthropopithèkos and, using all his strength, ripped the tail right off the body of the squirming Pithèkos. Mèter Elephantos who had gone mad from the loss of her beauty, grasped the still writhing tail and stuck it to her face. When the other Elephas saw their king and queen, they too broke down the trees and ripped the tails off of the Pithèkos, putting the severed tails on their faces.

The Pithèkos fled in pain and humiliation back to their territory. Anthropopithèkos ran immediately to the temple and prayed for vengeance from Psemata and Maimou, but they were displeased with the Pithèkos for lying to them and misusing their gift. The gods gave Anthropopithèkos the shameful new name of Apo, and took away the Pithèkos’ ability to speak, so that they could only beat their chests to express their anger. The Apae (as were the followers of Apo called) were also stricken with fleas and the only way to rid themselves of the parasites was to pick them off each other’s heads and eat them.

But the gods were not only angered with the Apae. The Elephas had done unspeakable violence and brought shame on the island and they too were punished. Like the Apae their ability to speak was taken from them and they could only bellow like Pater Elephantos had when he charged into the tree. The mutilated tails that they had taken from the Pithèkos could not be removed from their faces, and they had to walk on all fours to atone for their rage. The Elephas became wary of further tricks from the Apae and so grew enormous ears so that they could hear stifled laughter from nearby trees.

THE END!




























psst....

















"Tails" = penises. GET IT?!?

The End of an Era

On Sunday night Liz took in a Dave Matthews Band concert in Toronto. This marks the fifth, and most likely, final time I will see the band in concert. In fact, the last time I saw them I thought to myself "If only they'd played "#41" I would have no official reason to see them again next year." Well, they played it. It was the second song. Here's the setlist:

Don’t Drink the Water
#41
Granny
Louisiana Bayou *
Crash
Hunger For The Great Light *
Seek Up
Grey Street
Old Dirt Hill +
All Along The Watchtower +
Dream Girl
Stand Up
Crush
Don’t Burn The Pig
Stay *
__________________

Christmas Song
Ants Marching

Show Notes:
* Rashawn Ross (trumpet)
+ Eric Krasno (electric guitar)

Not bad, but they peaked early. By the end of "All Along the Watchtower" there was nothing left that I wanted to hear. Although I think I pinpointed what might be my favourite song; one that has resonance to me personally no matter which incarnation it takes. And that song is the above Watchtower. Kudos Bob! You did it!

I used to be a hardcore Dave-o-phile in my high school years. These guys were the first band I ever really clinged to, and thanks to no rent or living expenses I could afford their entire catalogue. Now I'm a little bitter towards them. I don't know why. I don't want to be one of those people that I was at the concert last night who sits there and says "Oh he said something! Let's cheer!" and then gives a golf clap (Truth be told, I didn't golf clap). The most memorable moments from the night weren't in the form of music. One such moment was having a hideous pun-off with Liz before the show started.

I think what might have happened is that I'm fully aware of their showmanship. When Boyd starts peeling out a wicked solo, I can't help but notice that he positions himself right in front of the camera. Between songs the band would wait until the applause swelled before they started another tune. I wanted to yell "Quit dicking around and play something!" I think I did yell that. Everything seemed so planned. I was once enraptured by the idea that the band improvises the songs every night, but when I can predict every wail in "Don't Drink the Water" and that sounds just like the live album they put out a year ago, which sounds suspiciously like the live album from 1998, well.... you get my point.

I think I can trace the start of the decline to the third time I saw them. I was at the Molson Amphitheatre with a group of fellow Dave-o-philes, and being such we naturally freaked out when Dave announced that the band had written "this next song about Canada."

"Stay (wasting time)" is not about Canada. When you hear the following lyrics,

It was so hot outside
You could fry an egg

do you think of Canada? I don't like stereotyping Canadians as igloo-dwellers, but this is not a hot country. It was a lie! How dare he! And just to get applause! And it's not just that I'm just picking apart the one line, because I'll grant that there have been days that have been hot enough to melt your winnebago. The whole song is about fooling around with a girl and not wanting to leave.

All bitterness aside, the first half of the show was pretty good. The second half gave me the impression of a good bar band. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

By the way, the pun-off was closed with one about ordering a meal of goat's meat which had been naturally killed. The restaurant just picked up the ones who had tumbled down the mountain, hence calling the dish "Tripping Billies."

p.s. Thanks a lot for the ticket, Liz!

Ok, cool!

I am t - 3 1/2 hours to presentation, and not to blow my own horn, but I think it might kick ass! I've got graphs and everything! Now that it's started I have to maintain this pace! More to come! I need to finish!