The Decade According to Will pt. 1

This is a pretty special new years eve. Ending of a decade. You know what that means. That means top 10 lists. I've been known to indulge in numeration from time to time. Seems to me this decade is probably the one that defines my generation, although the 10's are the decade that we as a generation will define, and that calls for a bit of numerical summation. Starting today and leading up to getting back to TWU in a week's time, I'm going to try to post a few top ten lists on this blog. I've got five list ideas and the first one that I've completed happens to be the top ten movies of this past decade, so here goes (also, I hate top ten lists that start with 1, it just makes no sense). Also I just had the hugest deja vu.

Top Ten Movies of the 00's

10. 28 Days Later (2002)

Directed by Danny Boyle, this film is good not because it's a vivid re-imagining of the zombie genre (which it is), but because of its brilliant character development. The breakdown of the protagonist into something savage and barely recognizable as human in order to maintain his humanity is immense.

9. Cinderella Man (2005)

There are not many sports movies I enjoy (exactly two), they almost invariably follow a set formula designed for specific emotional responses. They're a cheat. Boxing movies have a natural advantage over other sports movies in that they generally focus on a single man, rather than a team, which opens up the story to a much broader range of development. Cinderella man takes full advantage of this and features some of the best acting from some of my favorite actors, netting it a spot on this list.

8. Juno (2007)

The characters in this movie are intensely human and their responses to their situations are beautifully consistent. Too many hollywood movies fall into the trap of creating characters that can change at a moments notice, but Juno recognizes that for real people, change comes hard. It also tackles a pretty heavy issue with wit and a lack of pretension and comes out on top, props.

7. Gladiator (2000)

Like I said, Russell Crowe is one of my favorite actors and this is where he shines best, in a tale of bittersweet revenge opposite a truly despicable Joaquin Phoenix. Not only is it a fairly faithful recreation of a period of history, it's also just a darn good tale.

6. The Dark Knight (2008)

For such a rich comic book history, Batman has had some of the worst disappointments ever filmed. The Dark Knight is the long awaited realization of what a Batman movie should be. It's a beautiful crime drama that delves into the concepts of chaos and order, with a hero that's darker than he's ever been and villains that are multi-dimensional and fascinating. Add killer music and great cinematography and pacing and we have a winner.

5. Children of Men (2006)

Children of Men looks at what would happen if babies stopped being born. While this will probably not be useful information in the future, it does happen to be a fantastic science fiction film and is arguable an accurate representation of what we would become and what we would do, as humans, should that ever happen.

4. Lord of the Rings (2001-2003)

My Mom read us the books when we were kids and to go see it portrayed so faithfully on screen was a pretty sweet experience. There were so many times during the trilogy that I realized 'hey, this is exactly how I imagined in my head', this is both a testament to Tolkien's incredibly descriptive style and Peter Jackson's skill and courage as a filmmaker.

3. There Will Be Blood (2007)

This is capitalism vs. religion played out in a brutally honest story about an "oil-man" and his rise to power. Daniel Day-Lewis melts your face off with his acting, putting this on my top five of all time list as well. Favorite line: "I... drink... your... milkshake!"

2. No Country for Old Men (2007)

Only the Coen brothers could have turned out this brilliant adaption of Cormac McCarthy's already brilliant book. It's basically a frank discussion of where our society is at with relation to crime and how that compares with our fathers' generations. It's brooding and unsettling, leaving the viewer wishing for some measure of assurance, but finding none

1. Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Guillermo del Toro's finest creation yet, Pan's Labyrinth is both a violent and moving account of life under General Franco in Spain, and an intricate world, peopled by strange and fascinating creatures, as seen through the eyes of a young girl on a personal odyssey to find out who she is. It delves into the dynamics of family and loyalty, among other issues, as well as delving into the richly populated mind of Del Toro. Over all, however, what gives this the number one spot is the fact that it is just a really good story. A darn good story.

I wrote up a short list of 28 movies before I narrowed it down to 10, but three of the ones that didn't make it, I felt deserved special notice. High Fidelity was our first real introduction to the comic genius of Jack Black and still somehow remains a poignant story thanks to John Cusack. If this list had an 11th place, High Fidelity would occupy it. The Passion of the Christ was an incredibly accurate and well done depiction of what the crucifixion of Jesus would have been like and you cannot watch it without being deeply moved, but let's be honest, the book was just that much better. Moulin Rouge was one of the first musicals I could actually appreciate thanks to its killer use of popular music as story driving pieces, but notwithstanding a really good story and great acting, Moulin Rouge is still more about the music than the movie so it falls short from this list. Anyhow, it's past four right now and I'm needing sleep in a big way, I just thought I might start this thing off right away. Tomorrow I'll tackle the top ten discoveries. Keep it pregnant.

PipeSmokingProfessor

Brain Jar

Just as a word of caution, the following blog post tries to chart the strange brain of Will Davies and is full of accounts of dreams, oddities of perception, and other wildness. It was also mostly composed while the writer was in the thick of final exams and his brain was at the time not fully functioning on a normal plane. Well, enough apologizing for myself, I am what I am.

The way my mind works is sometimes a mystery to me. Most of the time. I had a dream the other night (I dream more when I sleep in beds that aren't my own) where I was exploring a warehouse that had gone out of business. Both floors of the warehouse were filled with junk and treasures and all manner of things, it was really fascinating. Now the thing with my dreams is that when I want to fly, I jump while I'm walking or running and pedal my legs. I don't outright fly, but it takes me a lot longer to reach the ground. The thing with this dream is that when I realize I'm dreaming and I try to fly, I can't do it. That's unusual because I can usually control my lucid dreams.
I've now sketched 36 assorted creatures in my fictional compendium. It's a world that really fascinates me. It's populated by four types of creatures; Fauna, Sentientia, Automata, and Lusus Naturae. There are also combinations of those classifications like F.L., A.S., AL, and interestingly even F.S.. These classifications probably wont hold much meaning without the implications behind them. This is another way in which I do not understand my own mind.

I made it thirteen stanzas into my second epic poem (the first, White Trash and Beardo, is still only around five stanzas) before my inspiration ran dry. This time I was sure to lay out where the poem was going, how it was going to get there, and the major themes before I even started, but I still can go no further for the time being. Perhaps the inspiration will come back on the holidays when I have a bit of time to think. I still don't understand how this inspiration gets ahold of me in the first place and why it leaves just as suddenly.

I can listen to a soaringly beautiful aria and be unmoved, but when I hear the strangled growl of Tom Waits singing about a Prostitutes Christmas Card or the fact that Romeo is Bleeding, it sends shivers down my spine. Someone commented the other night that the music I was listening to was offsetting. It's true, Tom Waits employed a couple of tempo changes in the song that leave the listener disconcerted and confused. The thing was that he was doing it intentionally. I dislike when musicians are not good at what they do and therefore their music is jarring unintentionally. When a musician is so good at what they do that they are able to experiment, look at music from new perspectives and apply different laws to how they play, when they try to evoke certain emotions other than joy or sadness (such as contentment or uneasiness), I appreciate their music. That's a bit of an explanation for my strange musical preferences I guess, something that I've come to terms with, but other people maybe haven't.

That wraps up a peek into my strange physche, and in case you think I'm a crazy person now, just take a look at yourself, normal as you think you are. You probably won't find any of the same stuff, but I guarantee you'll find bits you don't quite understand.

Pipesmokingprofessor

Funeral Wine

Angry wine of Pharaoh's mother
stowed and sealed with dust behind a stone
lust unforgiving for that wine
want it enough to strip a mountains crust
Her tomb wasn't even hidden
they just buried her
some palace Pilate said
"damn her, damn her immortal soul"

On the day you pop the cork
you will slake your thirst
you will stop being self-referential
your mouth will learn to be couth
it will open to spew the seven hundred individual colours of the Nile
and on opening, it will tell the ancients
kneel at my feet

When you scratch a flame
you will hurl fire from your lips
to cool your burning mind
When you are found in the cold
you will spew forth new mythologies
rolling them into logs to burn

All men will not speak well of you
until you are dead
not until they have made your body a fine ash
they will put you in your bottle
pile cold dirt in July
In one hundred years they will remember your funeral wine


PipeSmokingProfessor

On Stealing Shampoo

I went to buy a razor and shampoo today, only to find out that I didn't have any money in my bank account. I thought about it for a while because I was pretty sure I wasn't broke, but then I realized that I probably never notified the student loans people about being in school again. There's still a monthly amount of money being taken automatically out of my bank account. I feel a little bit silly about this. Fortunately I shaved with my cheap disposable razor last night(before throwing it away because it was super dull and prone to the chewing up of the face) so I should be good for another few days. November is over though, and though I do celebrate no-shave-November, I don't personally prescribe to the whole dirty-December trend.
I know that I said I'd update my blog, and I know that I haven't done that, but I also know that I hate apologizing for not updating my blog due the strange nature of that kind of apology, it would just feel weird to apologize for not blogging, as though the world depended on your blogging. I originally started blogging as a way to write my thoughts out (I find it helps me think), but with the invention of paper and the realization that people read my blog, I began to be more self-conscious in my writing. Of course taking other people into consideration when you are writing publicly viewable things is important. However, taking their image of yourself into account can be a dangerous path. One of the biggest problems with social networking sites, chatting online, or even blogging is that your ego is self-created, you can take the time to edit yourself and portray what you want others to see. Of course in real life this is true as well, people often put on a false front, but it's just that much easier online.
It is also much easier to be honest online. It is easier to tell the truth online, than to a persons face. So I'm not going to lie; while I can live without a shaving implement for quite some time (forever potentially), living without shampoo is a difficult endeavour. On that note it is imperative to confess that I've been "borrowing" the shampoo of the various different people who use our washroom for the last week or so. I'm not proud of it, I just hate washing my hair without shampoo. I'll even switch it up each time so that I'm not using too much out of one bottle. If any of my dormies are reading this, know that I am truly sorry (there, that's an apology I can endorse.)

The Rambler

Static Loud as my Tongue

I fell asleep on our couch at 2:00 the other night, only to be awoken two hours later by David Parker with two tall cans of Monster energy drink and saying that we had to finish our projects for pols 305. After the initial crabbiness from being woken up at four in the morning had worn off, I knuckled down and turned out one of the most satisfying projects of my university career to date. Of course it's for Paul Rowe so it's going to be marked pretty hard, but I'm still satisfied with it. What I'm even more satisfied with is that I got to spend about two hours in the laundry room last weekend (and quite a bit of time this weekend). For sure I was doing my laundry, but primarily I was there to play my guitar and write songs. So I spent about two hours doing that and along with other stuff I wrote the music for one of my songs. I started writing this one when I was on the island. It was inspired by driving up to this castle on a hill and sitting in the car with Miguel, listening to Peter, Bjorn, and John while a few people went to take pictures of it. From there it evolved when I was in the laundry room into something vastly different. I'm just posting the lyrics right now, but maybe I'll post the rest sometime soon. Unfortunately I'm having problems with publishing my posts in the format that I type them in, so there's going to have to be some random periods thrown in to make things work. Enjoy.

.

Pipesmokingprofessor

.

I am Not Just a Mutant

We curl up the rich folk road

to the crack and pop of a stereophone

the steady rain has stopped

leaving only chill and tree bones

.

(Chorus)

I, I live an old fashioned life

living it up in these modern times

I caught your eye

caught you just in time

.

The whistler coming down the moor

enshrined in silence to the manor door

a light inside ignites my mind

behind stained black polaroid

.

Brick on brick to build a mist

drifting up like a dream of the highlands

listless and ephemeral

Indian isle smokestack pyre

.

November light filters through

a darkened lens of swollen sky

the air is wet to the touch

and static loud as my tongue

.

To the brim with music

wish I was listening to Peter, Bjorn and John - Young Folks

I was up extremely late last night studying for a rels midterm that was going to happen this morning. Then I realized that the midterm had been pushed about a week ahead. At least I got some good solid studying in.
The weekend was pretty epic; we travelled to the island to visit Bethi and hang out in Victoria and had some sweet times. Catching rabbits at UVIC, having a dance part at the end of the breakwater in the middle of the night, playing through Mario Kart 64 on 50cc and 100cc, and having an amazing night of worship on Saturday night. The weekend was filled to the brim with all sorts of music, from Darth Vader playing a violin to Peter, Bjorn and John to rapping about the golden cat. It's a good feeling to be filled up with music.
Some of you may remember a time when I decided that I wanted to start a punk band. This has not gone away. A week or three back I was taking notes in Canadian Geography and they were liberally peppered with sketches and doodles. As I sometimes do I was messing around with cool lettering and I wrote "How do you draw a fever?" on the page. Anyways, it got the wheels turning and I sketched out what it would look like. Then I started drawing doodles all over the page and giving them names. As things do, this eventually evolved into a set of 13 song names and sketches, from which to write an entire album. Anyways, stylistically it could only be a punk album so I decided to ressurect the idea of Barj Kitten. I've written the lyrics for only 5 of the songs so far, but I'm halfway through the sixth right now. The only thing this album is actually missing is music to go along with the lyrics.
I'm gonna go hit up the caf for lunch, but stay tuned in the following weeks for some epic punk songs to make their way onto this blog. Keep it pregnant.

Will

Controlling the Weather is Easy

I have been too long without blogging. This is a fact. I am, however, prepared to remedy the situation. What it's going to take to get me to blog, something that I do thoroughly enjoy, is for me to outline a schedule. Settle on a list of expectations for myself. Did you know that when you say something out loud it solidifies it, in your mind that is. You can be dithering on an issue and unsure of what to think, but when you vocalize it you become sure. Anyways, typing something isn't quite the same, so this won't carry quite as much impetus for me, but it's a step in the write direction (I did that one without even thinking, that's how much of an addiction puns have become.)

#1:
-There will be one blog post published on Thursdays every week

#2:
-Every month there will be at least 6 posts published

So that just about sums it up. I know it's pretty simple, but I think it's going to work. Keep it pregnant people.

Will

Thinking about Words

Words on my Mind:

Compendium:
-A compendium is a comprehensive collection of knowledge on a particular subject. Such as a book of all the mammals in the Cayman Islands, or a collection of baby names. Key here is the compilation implied in the word. I like the word (and I like compendiums) because they contain a huge amount of knowledge that, while sometimes seemingly useless, informs the reader on all the different angles involved in a particular field. One might say that Moby Dick was somewhat of a compendium of whaling knowledge, a seemingly useless field for a poli sci student, but the knowledge obtained through its reading is utterly fascinating. Something that would not be a compendium would be an Uncle Johns Bathroom reader, or any other book of random facts, a compendium is focused in on one particular field, and is therefore able to explore it intimately.

Anachronism:
-An anachronism is something that's taken outside of its own time frame. This could mean something like an ipod in a Rembrandt, but it more commonly means the existence of something from a previous time in the present. For instance, I enjoy typing on an old manual typewriter and I also enjoy listening to vinyl, you could say that I'm anachronistic. Now the cool thing about the word "anachronism" is that it doesn't have to apply to concrete objects, it can apply to ideas. Any ideas that are outdated (the world is flat) would fall into this category. The problem is that we, in the present, have too little of an appreciation for what lies in the past, we are quick to shunt it aside in favor of new things and new ideas. So anachronisms can sometimes be either true (in the case of ideas) or simply better (in the case of objects). For instance, it's a little known fact that vinyl sounds way better than cds (but cassettes always sucked).

Hinterland:
-Hinterland is the name given to a geographical area that is a peripheral area, supporting a core, in the core-periphery model. It primarily refers to the transfer of resources from the periphery to the core, but also to people, ideas, etc. The word hinterland is unique in that it specifically refers to the land behind a city that acts as its periphery. I like this word because it describes a unique 'sheltered' periphery, instead of the periphery lying exposed around the core, it lies behind it. In German (the language of origin) it literally means 'the land behind'.

Lusus Naturae:
-Lusus Naturae refers to a sportive creation of nature. Historically this word applied to creatures that supposedly betrayed some greater intelligence in nature, one that would joke with humans by making bizarre things. These creatures would not serve any real purpose except for sport. I like the word because it's the scientific classification for monsters. Anything that really can't be classified at all, or is there for "sport" would fall under Lusus Naturae. Of course, this means that Lusus Naturae doesn't really exist, being as all creation is there for a purpose, but it's an interesting concept, an anachronism if you will.

pipe smoking professor

The Passing and the Keeping

I fully realize that my hiatus from blogging may have taken a toll on my already small readership, but I've never really believed in saving the good stuff for the times that people will read it. The idea of strange alcoves tucked away in confusing libraries, containing mysteries or beautiful things, more valuable for the rarity of their discovery, anachronisms, unchallenged because of their anonymity. This idea has always fascinated me. The internet is not such a place, by its very intransience it corrupted itself too early for the chance of any natural structure to evolve. While certain forms are constanly being imposed on it, with the hope that they will somehow come to define it or tame it, this is a vain hope, it is a wild and unruly beast. Not a good one either. And yet... There are so many possibilities, so many opportunities latent in its form. Anyways, I originally intended to post something that I wrote very methodically, and thus far it has just been ramblings, so here's something that I wrote recently that I kindof like.
Pipe Smoking Professor

Keep a Magic for the Passing

The held back light, readied
in busy anticipation for the long shadows.
Its touch brings shades like Midas
yet softer and poorer still,
hints of burnt oranges emboss themselves,
impressed on seldom lit trunks
by beams that boast a rarer vintage

On some far hill the shadows spike,
intruding like a doctor for a sick relative
and soon, on the edge of abrasive pine,
the sky will spill its life
the ineffectual letting of blood

But we do not mourn
for what has not passed.
We regale in the lime verdance
in clasped hands keep finches and frogs
The season is late in leaving,
the sun delayed in falling,
a hum of static enchantment
scarcely allows a shallow breath
so we capture rays like earthy totems,
aware of their magic,
readying them for the soon enough

Adventures in Literature

listening to K-os: I Wish I Knew Natalie Portman

   I finished up volume nine of the Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman, one of the few comic book writers (along with Alan Moore) that elevate the art form to literature. If you have a chance Sandman (again along with Alan Moore's Swamp Thing) is one of those few series, rather than stand-alone graphic novels, that consistently provide quality writing throughout. While the last volume was about a Canterbury Tales style meeting where inn patrons tell stories and stories within stories, this volume "The Kindly Ones" is a classic tragedy, right from the beginning Gaiman brings in an overbearing sense of foreboding. You know how the story will end right from the start, but it's a testament to his skill that he maintains a sense of mystery and wonder all the way through the tale.

   Tomorrow I'm heading off to the Timothy Encounter and I'm looking forward to being challenged on a lot of levels. There's one thing that really stuck with me from last year's Timothy Encounter and that is to come into these things with a sense of expectation. Expectation that God is going to meet you and that God is going to impact you, break you, and speak to you. And He will. 

   Another adventure in literature that I had recently was finishing a short story by Isaac Asimov, The Dead Past, which I heard presented as a radio play years ago. And then, as I was thinking about it today, I realized that there are almost never any original sci-fi or fantasy movies, almost all are adapted from some other medium. The only one I can think of right now that hasn't been adapted is Pan's Labyrinth (which happens to be somewhere on my top five movies of all time). Anyways it seems like that's something that should be broken out of (who am I kidding, people don't have original ideas anymore anyways (either that or original ideas just aren't commercially viable (and these days art seems to bow before the almighty dollar (this multi-bracket is full of cynicism)))). 

   As a closing statement it would be worthwhile to note that the song I Wish I Knew Natalie Portman has being playing for the better part of half an hour on repeat and it's still good. It's one of those few songs that actually sounds good on repeat. It's also a pretty good song in general. Keep it... Wait, who am I kidding, that saying is getting pretty stale.

Soundmime

Coming Back

Listening to The Pixies: Doolittle

Doolittle is a truly beautiful album, it's much more polished than Surfer Rosa, but it's got the same edgy sound. It's also just as addictive as Surfer Rosa, When I first got it I listened to it at least twice a day for the first week and since then it's still pretty much all I've listened to. It happens every once in a while, where I listen to an album that I like so much, that I compulsively have to listen to it every chance I get. It happened with albums like De Stijl, Highway 61 Revisited, and I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning (along with Surfer Rosa itself). I'll dissect the album and hold it up to a million lenses, read the lyrics a dozen times over and find out what they mean. Of course, the first time I listened to Doolittle was around four or five years ago when Luc L'Heuroux loaned it to me for a few days after school. I gave it the worst listening ever, skipping over songs because it was all so repetitive in my mind. I distinctly remember telling Luc that it just all sounded the same and although it had some nice melodies sometimes (I thought I was being very open minded on this point) it was just a lot of repetitive static. Well the second time I listened to it, a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't believe how deaf I was to it the first time. I guess the first listen I just wasn't ready for the sounds, but more importantly I didn't understand where they were coming from. It's always a pleasure to find an artist and realize that this is where a lot of your favorite modern artists take their influence. I tend to do that a lot. I remember discovering blues to be a wealth of sound only after discovering the neo-blues of the White Stripes. They were like a gateway drug to a whole new soundscape. Now I don't know what the gateway drug to stuff like the Pixies was, but I do know that coming back to them I can hardly believe my ears. Anyways, the standout tracks would be Debaser, Monkey Gone To Heaven, Hey, and Gouge Away (that list is completely non-comprehensive because all the songs belong on it, but you've got to draw the line somewhere) so if you get the chance listen to one of those, but be forewarned, the Pixies aren't for everybody and they deal with some pretty heavy issues. I've got to go to Lordco today because I need to get a wheel bearing for Mindy's rear, right wheel so I'm gonna have to wrap this up. Keep it pregnant people.

Soundmime

Midnight Jumper

Listening to The Besnard Lakes: Volume 1

   The week of Canadian music is drawing to somewhat of a close. As a compromise in these last couple of days, Alpha will get to listen to the new Jars of Clay album that she just bought and I'll get to listen to the Pixies Doolittle that I just bought. I think I'm getting the better end of this compromise because I love Jars of Clay as well and I also have a Canadian album that I bought this week; Volume 1 by the Besnard Lakes. I'm only on my second listen through right now because it's a hefty album, only 7 songs and clocking in at just under 44 minutes, but it's quite dense and a couple of the songs are close to 10 minutes long. 

   Right now the morning tears are starting. Morning tears are caused by having little sleep and getting up early to bright sunshine. While I'm indoors right now, it's pretty light in here and there's a hefty amount of sunshine coming in, but still the main morning tears won't start until I start driving to work in another 20 minutes and hit the glaring sunshine. Adventures were had last night. The Besnard Lakes, good Canadian music, take a listen. Don't be afraid to shed morning tears. Give away a book. Become a midnight jumper. Keep it pregnant.

Park Ranger

Journey vol. 2

Listening to Plants and Animals

I was trying to explain indie music to my Dad and I played a couple of indie songs for him, rationalizing that it was simply to explain something. Of course then I realized that Canada should have a burgeoning indie scene of it's own. And apparently it does, so I've started exploring the Canadian indie music scene. After going through a few artists I've stumbled upon Plants and Animals, a band that I can appreciate and, hopefully, so can my dad (at least something he hopefully won't actively dislike). It's an odd criteria to meet, but the world of indie is one of reviving lost art forms so it's not entirely out of place. [at this point the author gets told that he's polluting the computer].

Listening to The Michael Parks (formerly Detective Kalita)

After some long searching I managed to assemble a few indie artists that looked quite promising. Most awesome is Detective Kalita (now The Michael Parks). they're surprisingly under the radar for being such a good indie band. Last night, along with a couple of classic Star Trek episodes, we watched Igor with John Cusack. The movie was surprisingly good with a solid blend of offbeat humor and a really original plot. Steve Buscemi played an indestructible rabbit and along with a talking brain in a jar named Brian provided most of the laugh out loud comedy. John Cusack is a lot more subtle though, while not actively funny himself, he works well in a comedy environment, if you've ever seen Hi-Fidelity or some of his earlier fare you'll know what I mean. Igor is a mostly overlooked gem and it's well worth a watch. Anyways, the day is wasting away and I'm going to go adventuring. Keep it pregnant people.

pipe smoking professor

Sanctuary Road

This is something that I wrote back in December, but never really edited. Most of the editing I've done now is punctuation, but a little bit of phrasing near the beginning too. Its form is reminiscent of freewriting, but content-wise I spent a lot more time on it and the coherency shows (if limitedly). Without further ado, here it is.

Pipe smoking professor

Sanctuary Road

I'm riding on a train going somewhere I don't know. 

Conductor looks at me says, Canada you want something? you know where to go? 

but I'm just as lonely, just as scared of tomorrow as the next soul 

I hold maybe fewer grudges, but I'm every bit as cold. 

When I try too hard there's a pain that hits me in the heart 

and I know there's something there, 

diabetes or some strange disease, 

brings the thought of being home 

to be so clear to me. 

Wake up fevered on the coach the railroad is in a dream, 

here I'm buried in a sea of apathy and snow, 

but the thought is just as strong, my eyes see nothing but the road they call it home, but to me it's just another cardboard box a mess of Russian dolls and in the middle me what rail to jump, what car to drive I'm holding up my sign and looking at the coins on main street, dropped like diamonds in the snow. I'm not made for the weather you know, it holds me down and brings me close to the smell of something I can't pretend to like. This bitter city holds no part of my soul. For love and peace, and a host of other things I must leave to Arizona, never mind she's buried in snow. A plane to a place I've yet to see, still a sense that I can find a sanctuary settled somewhere on a road, with a conductor that calls me Canada and a feeling like I'm going home.

Journey vol. 1

listening to Banned from Atlantis

So me and Alpha made a deal to listen to only Canadian music that we haven't listened to this week. I mean let's be serious people, there's a wealth of musical talent in Canada. The only reason some of these artists haven't ever made it big is because they're in Canada. Most Canadian artists that do make it big are the ones that move to the U.S.. It certainly requires a little bit more work to find the good Canadian musicians, mostly because a lack of publicity, but the results can be quite rewarding. Right now I'm listening to a great punk band from Winnipeg called Banned from Atlantis that existed briefly in the mid-nineties. The drumming is pretty hectic and often way off, but that just serves to capture something of the essence of punk, something that it lost some time ago due to excessive spit and polish. 

listening to The Besnard Lakes: Volume 1

Next up on todays fantastic journey through awesome Canadian music is the strange yet beautiful The Besnard Lakes. With this band, much more so than Banned from Atlantis, you can really feel the Canadianess. It has hints of other ethnicities, but there is a very distinct sound that's unique to Canadian music that they've captured. There's something that reflects the vastness and the wildness of this country that shouts out "THIS IS A CANADIAN BAND". It has echoes of Matthew Good and some of the Beatles Magical Mystery Tour, but from the later it still maintains a vast chasm. In the end it's both starkly unique and profoundly Canadian. A good mix if you ask me. Today is a sunny day, one of those days that's perfect for basking in the heat still present under the newly verdant foliage. I'm going to go find somewhere to climb trees and then make my way out to Langley for the evening. Happy Victoria day tomorrow. Celebrate by finding a new Canadian band. Keep it pregnant.

Will

Sound from the Garages

listening to Stranger of the Night by Absie

So here I am, out in Burnaby, getting up early. I got up just past 7:30 this morning. If you know me, that's early. I was doing some band searching last night (quite an enjoyable pastime) and I stumbled upon a few good ones. First I found this band called The Litter, they're a great late 60's psychedelic garage rock band. I found them initially because they did a cover of Buffy Sainte Marie's Codeine, a song that I was trying to find the original of online (the only copy I could find was a live version of about half the song). Anyways, it turns out that the Litter rock out pretty hard in their own right, and they had some great songs (like Action Woman) that weren't covers and some great songs (like I'm a Man by Bo Diddley) that were covers. Good listening if you like garage rock or psychedelic  music, and a good mixing of the two.

listening to Codine by The Litter

After that it got pretty crazy. I was eating some trail mix and there were some dehydrated blueberries in it. So I had the thought, I'll bet there's a band called The Blueberries. Sure enough there's a band called the Blueberries. And oddly enough they're actually pretty decent. They're an indie French band from Brest, but they take their influence from a lot of British punk like the Clash, which is a good thing. They're still a starting out indie band, but they're rocking the Clash vibe so I'm sure they're going to be pretty awesome once they polish their sound. 

From The Blueberries I linked to a British artist called Absie. Again, she's an indie artist, but with a lot more stuff than the Blueberries and actually playing shows in Britain. Good music, worth a listen. I've got to go to work now or else I would have said a little more. Keep it pregnant.

Will

Mindy's Last Ride (Indefinitely)

Mindy is done, though not in the expected way. I was at Kwantlen checking my email when she got towed. The ironic bit is that as I was walking out to her, I was reading an article about how UBC got rid of its parking fines. That's called bitter irony. So after exhaustively trying to get her back (without money that can be a difficult task) I returned to the Kwantlen library and continued my search on craigslist and monster.ca, both pretty darn useful websites. Anyways, that's all for now, but don't expect any blogging for a while.

pipesmokingprofessor

Mindy's Last Ride (approximately)

I have 50 more kilometers to go. Or at least that's as far as I'll be able to go. From there it's either walking or, if I can find one, biking. It's useful to know exactly how far a tank of gas will take you, but there's also a sense of impending doom when you know you're not going to be able to fill it up again. Today I'm on the job search, all got up in some nice pants and a fancy shirt and I'm even wearing shoes. In weather like this, one should never have to wear shoes, but alas it must be done. The resumes are mostly printed, but they are unfortunately woefully incomplete. That is to say, they're lacking a phone number. I have neither a land line nor a cell phone, and while it can sometimes be a beautiful thing not being connected to the whole world, at times like these it has its drawbacks. Anyways, after printing off a few more resumes, I'm off to tour around Langley in the blazing sun, shirtless and listening to 100.5 at full volume (of course I'll be wearing the shirt when I apply for jobs). What is 100.5 you ask? It's just the newest radio station in town and also the coolest (cue catchy sound effect and slide guitar).

Will

The Times They Are A-Changin'

I really liked Rambo. Not at first, but it grew on me. I also like Modern Times, again not at first, but after a while... You see, First Blood was an excellent movie, none in the series will ever compare to it. Rambo: First Blood part II was still good though, and Rambo III as well. They followed a definite progression, and Rambo was simply the logical conclusion of that. It worked too, looking back it was a great movie, and it fit into the pantheon well. The same is true of Modern Times. Back when I bought it I hadn't listened to too much Bob Dylan and I had a passing fascination with it, enough to convince me to buy some of his older stuff, until I plunged headfirst in and reveled in the stuff. I worked my way forward through his albums (not all of them, I mean seriously the guy has something like 60 studio albums) until I got to such offerings as Time Out of Mind and Love and Theft. It was then that I began to see the progression. He was going somewhere, and that somewhere was Modern Times. It wasn't so much a somewhere as with Rambo's conclusion, but it was definitely another step in his musical evolution. Our favorite artists never stay the same. If the Beatles had continued penning pop anthems, we would never have gotten such gems as Sgt. Peppers or the white album. If Neil Young wasn't so musically inviscid, grunge would never have had the run it did. Sometimes it's hard to accept change, but it is better far than grasping at what we once had. When Indiana Jones 4 presents nothing of its former charm by trying to capture just that, when Metallica, GnR and Black Sabbath all put out their long awaited comeback albums, trying to recapture the bombastic rock of their youth, only to present soulless shells, when we see Hollywood pump out sequels to all our favorite movies, making them exactly like the original, and failing to make them either original or even possessing of any cinematic strength. We've got to take a step back and realize that change is what makes us so fascinating, we've got to learn to take chances, to keep from getting stuck in the same rut. We'll find something good and wear it out till it's just a shadow of its former self, but real staying power is the ability to move on. If you've ever asked me, that's why I like Jack White.

Pipe Smoking Prof

The Way I See It

The theory goes that when you dream (and most of what we know about dreams is theory, so such conjectures are legitimate), your subconscious goes through your thoughts and tries to sort them out. This means that when you're under a lot of pressure, or big things are happening in your life, you'll tend to dream for longer. Longer periods of REM sleep will eventually translate into more periods of REM during the average sleep period than the usual 4-5, in order to accommodate all the information that needs sorting in a highly complex life. So more sleep is needed. That's the theory. Another consideration is Narcolepsy. Of all the sleep disorders I've looked into, its symptoms most match my own. Another theory is that it's both, they aren't too incompatible after all. Then again, it could just be hypochondriacism (maybe one of the longest words I've ever used legitimately). I always dream.
I had a really good one the other day where I remembered how to fly. Well, it's not really flying, per se, but it's a good feeling of weightlessness, of slowing time while you jump. Try it sometime, take a great big leap (maybe take a run at it) and when you're in the air you simply remember in the back of your mind how to fly, it's either that or forget that you should fall, and just float there for a few seconds, pedaling the intangible aether, until you come back down to rest a few meters on. In my dream I did it for hours. That was my morning.
There are places in my dreams that seem more real than reality. Have I ever told you about the house? It's a great big affair, full of countless passages and ante-rooms. On the side facing the ocean there's a huge sweeping staircase traveling three floors with Victorian glass-doored big balconies on each of the three floors. There's one passage and one room in the house that nobody knows but me, and as many times as I've visited it in my dreams, I have never revealed its location. It's like a sanctuary from any nightmare, protected only by its utmost secrecy.
I still remember the vividness of the palace floating above London. I was only there once, but it was beautiful enough to burn a lasting memory. It was Laputian in style, but once you found your way inside, you were no longer in London, you entered a parallel dimension, one where the palace was much bigger and the towers and smog were replaced by a verdant expanse. It existed briefly near the end of the nineteenth century and from then I suppose it only existed in dreams.
Is there a word for meeting somebody you haven't seen for a while, in a dream, and feeling like you really spent some quality time with them once you woke up? Those don't happen too often, but when they do I wake up with the feeling that I've been missing the part of me that was them for some time and I may have finally got it back. Only to wish they still had it so I'd feel more compelled to search them out. If you're one of those people I apologize and I hope I still have a little part of you.
There's the occasional nightmare, but when you walk the world of the lucid dream long enough, you learn how to embrace them. The dream of pursuit can be turned to adventure. After all, car chases are thrilling and parkour is a sport I've always wanted to take up. The worst is the dream where you, yourself, are the enemy. The dreams where you screw up your own life and you have to explain it to people. And it all seems so real, and there's never any really good explanation. And when you wake up, it's with a sense of relief. After all, it's just a dream.

Will

Choose your own adventure

You stand apprehensively on the university greens, your last final completed. To your East lies the sunny paradise known as the Okanagan and further still, across the great plains, lies the jewel city of Halifax. To your West lies the great metropolis of your birth, struggling under the heavy hand of depression. The paths to the North remain blocked by the winter snows and the impenetrable line of the great mountains. The South is a dead route, a different race of beings to which you do not belong, The emerald key is needed to unlock its gate.

>Survey surroundings
You take in the serene campus that has been your place of learning for the last eight months, it has served you well, but it has not broadened your horizons or opportunities at this stage.

>East
You stand in an expansive field, home to a tame herd of beasts. Beside you stands your faithful blue steed, Mindy.

>Check inventory
In your pockets you find:
5 keys to various doors
1 scribes pen
1 silver harmonica
In your sack you find:
1 pile of books and papers
1 merchants pouch with 0 gold

>Get in the car
Does not compute

>Use Key with Mindy
You mount your noble blue steed, Mindy, you can travel:
East: toward the paradise of the Okanagan
West: toward the great metropolis of your birth

>_

Watching the Watchmen

I'm back from my lengthy hiatus, and while I usually make a policy of not drawing any attention to long periods of time spent without blogging, I enjoy using the word 'hiatus' so much that I'm prepared to make that sacrifice. I wonder why more people don't realize that their ideals are worthless when confronted by reality in all its dirty splendor. Certain ideals, of course, I'm simply not prepared to give up, as Rorschach puts it, "No. Not even in the face of Armageddon. Never compromise.".
I watched the Watchmen movie. I can't say that I was disappointed, but that may be because I set my expectations pretty low. The movie follows the book fairly closely, aside from a few changes to make the story somewhat more believable for a moviegoing audience, but in its closeness to the book, while it was a boon for its many devotees (myself included), it may have constructed its own undoing. I think the best way to explain it is to go with Alan Moore's view, the story was in part designed to demonstrate what a graphic novel could do that neither traditional literature nor film could accomplish. He considered the work unfilmable, and I think he was right. As I watched I was struck by how many times, as a certain scene was happening, I would think to myself, "this is frame by frame the same as the comic, but gee I wish I was reading the comic right now because it did it so much better.". That isn't to say it wasn't a good movie, it wasn't half bad, but I wouldn't recommend ever watching it unless you've given the book a fair shake first. Of course that brings me to the fact that I wouldn't actually recommend it at all. One thing that made the transfer particularly poorly was any of the graphic content. The director, Zack Snyder of 300, unfortunately is of the opinion that the best part of comics is sex and violence. In Watchmen there were some scenes of both graphic violence and some nudity (one of the superheroes, Dr. Manhattan, appears naked in most of his scenes), but while these were treated quite well in the book, taking a back seat to the plot and not at all dealt with provocatively, their transfer to film was heavily accentuated. For that reason alone, especially considering its pervasiveness, I wouldn't recommend the film to anyone. But rest assured, you wont miss anything that the comic doesn't do better anyways (although the soundtrack sounded like somebody raided my music library, which was pretty enjoyable).

Pipe Smoking Professor

Top Ten Desert Island Discs

listening to CAKE - Fashion Nugget

I was thinking about all the music and playlists featured on this blog and it reminded me of a great top ten list that I wrote up while I was in Nanaimo. During an extra boring talk on STV, the speaker mentioned something about top ten desert island discs (I don't even remember what it was in reference to anymore) and it got the wheels of my mind turning. So I got out my pen and, during the meeting, wrote out my top ten desert island discs. This list is of course incomplete because my musical tastes and library are expanding at an alarming rate, and there is the addition of Exile on Main St., an album that I have not yet bought yet all factors point towards its inclusion on this list. Despite its inconsistencies, here's the list (images courtesy of Wikipedia)

10. - Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning


9. - Gorillaz - Demon Days


8. - Jars of Clay - If I Left The Zoo


7. - Rolling Stones - Exile On Main St.


6. - Raconteurs - Consolers Of The Lonely


5. - Weezer - Weezer (Blue Album)


4. - Velvet Underground - Velvet Underground And Nico


3. - White Stripes - White Blood Cells


2. - Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited


1. - Beatles - White Album


soundmime

Ferdinand

Ferdinand

let's gas this up
and smash a bottle on her side
creeps out slow from steel womb and
slowly, silent climbs aloft
filagree on golden clouds like a silver lining
shock and awe greet down below
Icarus, Montgolfier
can't hold a candle to my cigar
burning up the atmosphere
spitting fire in a few years time
proudly sitting still and silent in the sky
yes it's mine
yes it's mine
yes it's made of Schwarz' scrapbook
and all it's air is second hand
but it holds a certain dignity
camaraderie with the clouds


Pipe Smoking Professor

Renegade

Have you ever bought an album based on the fact that you really love one song off of it, but you don't really know what any of the other songs are like. It can be dangerous. I remember buying Gnarls Barkley's St. Elsewhere for the song Crazy, needless to say I was sorely dissapointed. This past weekend, however, I bought two albums where the opposite was true. I was in Nanaimo for a CFSBC conference and just down the road from the hotel where we were staying there was this epic record store. It was kind of like Zulu Records, but on a smaller and not quite as awesome level. I was ridiculously sucked in and bought a vinyl (Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot) and four other albums (Surfer Rosa by the Pixies, Stereo Type A by Cibbo Matto, Beautiful Freak by the Eels, and On The Beach by Neil Young). The reason why I bought so many is because most of those albums I couldn't find anywhere else (I'm sure I could buy them at Zulu, but it's just too dangerous and expensive for me to go in there), and all are awexome to the max albums. Surfer Rosa and Beautiful Freak really surprised me though. For Beautiful Freak I had only listened to the song My Beloved Monster and really loved it. When I listened to it in the context of the album though, I was amazed that it wasn't even the best song there. The rest of the album was as good if not better than it and My Beloved Monster wasn't even the focal point or the climax of the album. Something similar happened with Surfer Rosa (from which I had only heard Where Is My Mind) the album simply blew away my expectations. I have put off buying the album for a long time for certain reasons, but I can't help but wish I had bought it sooner, it's really an achievement. Very few of the songs are as polished as Where Is My Mind, but they harness a raw carelessness that in this instance manages to produce some sweet tunes. Also it's great to listen to the album and try and find the parts of it that all my favorite bands took their influence from, it turns out the Pixies were more influential than I realized.
Anyways, just a couple stores away from the record shop was a used and antiquarian bookstore so I had to spend some time (and money) in there. Although I still claim that the bookstore in Penticton is the greatest ever, this one manages a close second. While a lot of bookstores succumb to stocking piles of pulpy fiction and harlequin romances, this bookstore steered well clear of anything to do with that. If the standard good to crap ratio for your average second hand bookstore was 3 to 7 (it's probably much less), I would say the ratio for this one was about 7 to 3 (I know, that's a pretty epic achievement). It was like concentrated awexomeness. There was a whole tall shelf double stacked with poetry and two or three of the same entirely dedicated to boats, seafaring, and voyages (along with a large number of charts). The size of what would normally be taken up by the fiction section was taken up by the classics section. The sci fi and fantasy sections were really small, but they still managed to stock all the really great authors like Bradbury or Adams (although my one gripe was that there was no Heinlein). Anyways the books that I bought were: The Vintage Bradbury by Bradbury of course, Captain Cook's Voyages Of Discovery (abridged for the Everyman's Library or it would have easily been half a dozen volumes) by Cook himself, Goblin Market And Other Poems by Rossetti, Of Mice And Men and The Grapes Of Wrath by Steinbeck, and The Sound And The Fury by Faulkner. The best part, of course, was with the exception of Cook they all cost me 3 or 4 dollars apiece so I came out of there relatively unscathed.
The actual weekend in Nanaimo was in itself pretty interesting. The CFSBC is the BC component of the Canadian Federation of Students (although technically they are seperate and autonomous) and it's composed almost entirely of NDPers. Kwantlen's delegation was probably the most diverse group there, we had a Liberal, a Green voter, an NDPite, and of course a Conservative (yours truly). The other thing was that most of the other delegations and the CFS staff really dislike Kwantlen and are super hostile. This is partly to do with the fact that last year Kwantlen held a referendum to try to withdraw from the CFS, but it's also to do with the fact that unlike most of the other delegations (which are mostly composed of hacks that follow the CFS line without thinking) Kwantlen has traditionally been very critical of the CFS and their policies. I think I was fortunate to be part of the Kwantlen delegation because it enabled me to see just how undemocratic and partisan influenced the CFS actually is. We had committee meetings where we dicussed policy and changes, plenary sessions where we all got together and voted, and speakers on stuff like the STV system and student debt. Some of the speakers were really interesting (like the one on STV), but some of them were straight up recycled soft-communist rhetoric (Like the one on raising taxes). As for the committee meetings all our delegation members in their respective committees got horrifically shut down on any ammendments they brought forward and the same followed with the plenary session where motions were voted on (Which was a really disturbing experience). It was also really disturbing to see only one other member local in the whole organization really have the guts to go against CFS line. Overall, however, it was a really educational experience and quite enjoyable, participating in debate and even bringing forward an ammendment in the plenary session (even though it was madly shut down by the hacks). So that was my weekend. Keep it pregnant dudes.

Park Ranger

The Final Playlist

I was thinking about funerals the other day, and I had this crazy idea. So here's how it works. What if, at your funeral, when you were being lowered into the ground, or as they're playing a slideshow of pictures of your life or something, they started playing some really crappy music? Like what if they broke out some Kenny G? I can tell you right now that I would definately not be okay with that. I mean it's not like you would mind because you would be dead, but it would certainly be a comforting thought right now if you knew they would play music you liked. Seriously folks, this stuff is important. I mean not only should it be music that you like, but it should be appropriate for the occasion, and then you want to consider the message you're going to send with the lyrics or lack thereof. So I started making a list on Monday afternoon and by 3:00 Tuesday morning I had whittled it down to 30 songs (2 hours, 11 minutes, and 14 seconds of music). Now these were all great songs, but as I starting looking into funeral rites (wondering how I could acommodate so many songs) I began to realize that I would have to pare this number down significantly (as in under ten songs (or even less)). Another thing I realized is that the deceased doesn't really have any say in how their funeral is conducted, their family has the final say on pretty much everything. So I had to make the list actually fully appropriate for the occasion (and trust me, there were a lot of songs that definately weren't) so that there would hopefully be no objections. Some of the songs (Running To Stand Still and Heroin) are explicitely to do with drugs, there's good reason for this. Songs like Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds or Purple Haze are explicitely to do with drugs and provide a fairly unique experience because of the state in which they were written, but in essence they're condoning drugs (which I'm not cool with). However an important distinction needs to be drawn between them and songs like Running To Stand Still or Heroin (although Heroin may or may not have been written under the influence) which are written from a sobered perspective and expose the dark side of the drugs (in both of these cases, heroin). To me songs like these provide an exraordinary impetus to live and do something with your life. Whenever I finish listening to Heroin I have to get up and do something because the portrait of the wasted life displayed in it is so powerful. Now one could make the arguement that to listen to songs that are about the life well lived are even more powerful, but this particular breed of anti-drug songs are the shadow which proves the sunshine, we need both. However, if there is truly a lot of objection on the inclusion of these songs in my funeral, all the most potentially controversial songs have been included in the first category, from which songs can be taken out if absolutely necessary. So without further ado, here's the actual list of 10 songs.

Anytime during funeral, reception, etc:
Matthew Good - Champions Of Nothing
The Velvet Underground - Heroin
Bob Dylan - It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)
U2 - Running To Stand Still

If on a Sunday:
The Velvet Underground - Sunday Morning

Important songs (slideshow or something):
Pixies - Where Is My Mind
Kings of Leon - The Runner
Jason Wade - You Belong To Me
Pink Floyd - Wish You Were

Casket lowering:
Josh Garrels - YHWH