Tales of the Rambler

Student Playlist #3

2011-11-09T10:37:00.004-08:00

Atlas Sound released their album Parallax this past month and I was so intrigued by the name of one of the songs, Modern Aquatic Nightsongs, that I had to give it a listen. Well I wasn't that impressed; I guess I had an idea of what an aquatic nightsong should sound like and Atlas Sound just didn't capture that.

Flash forward a bit and I'm looking for a theme for a playlist to go into the latest Mars Hill issue. All I can think of is the fact that Atlas Sound just didn't capture the meaning of aquatic nightsongs (if you want a band that does that, you'll have to go with Future Islands). I made the playlist and submitted it and it was going to be in this issue, but had to be cut for space restrictions. Here it is anyways; these are my November Aquatic Nightsongs.

November Aquatic Nightsongs/Nautical Midnight Music

Dolphins Into The Future - On The High Seas

-This is purely to set the tone for the rest of the playlist. If you'd like, you can skip to the next song about 3 minutes in because it doesn't change much from there.

AA Bondy - Of The Sea

-This is closer to a ballad of the sea, but it's definitely a November song.

M83 - My Tears Are Becoming A Sea

-So you might be thinking M83? Last I remembered they were just mediocre shoegazing electropop. Well they're still shoegazing electropop, but they're anything but mediocre with their latest album.

Seu Jorge - Changes

-For the soundtrack to The Life Aquatic, Jorge recorded fourteen David Bowie covers. All acoustic and all with a slightly nautical feel. This just exemplifies how these songs play out.

Buck 65 - Whispers In The Waves

-Gord Downie collaborating with Buck 65. Need I say more.

Future Islands - Tybee Island

-I'm just discovering these guys. Hailing from Baltimore, they've been putting out a plethora of music since midway through the last decade and their latest album is turning heads. Specifically turning my head.

Underwater Seacreatures - You Forgot

-What do you mean Grooveshark doesn't have any Underwater Seacreatures? Yeah. That's how lo-fi they are. You want chillwave? Underwater Seacreatures is gonna give it to you.

Harry Manx & Kevin Breit - Sisters

-This instrumental piece is on here courtesy of Tim Andries. Sends chills up my spine. Is it really an aquatic nightsong? Well I'm making this playlist now, aren't I.

Mad Rad - Underwater

-Makes me feel like I'm at a midnight rave under the sea. People and fish all grooving together in a dark ocean.

Freelance Whales - Generator 1st Floor

-It's a sunrise song, but that makes sense because hopefully some rays are peeking over the horizon by now.

Corn and Cut-Offs

2011-09-20T19:37:00.002-07:00

A week before classes started, I was doing some landscaping in Coquitlam. I can't remember how the topic came up, but I told one of the workers on the site that it was going to be my last day. He seemed to think that there was plenty of work out there and that I would be better off staying. '"Oh no" I said, "I'm going back to school." To which he replied, "good for you" and paused, "what grade?"
But in all seriousness, I do occasionally reminisce about grade school. From this side of the great divide, it appears to have been made up of eating lunch, holding hands, and playing hooky. In truth I was probably under a lot of stress, but at the very least I could hang onto the fact that my work would have no real lasting effect on the course of my life. As long as I got into university, I could do whatever I wanted with my highschool time. That is no longer the case.
We have been gradually dividing the week up into special days, flash-in-the-pan traditions that will only last so long as we have time, money, and memory for them. Monday is Burger Monday, wherein we travel to the Fort Langley Pub and partake of their Monday burger deal and a couple of pints. Tuesday is either Ben Cooper Day or Cut-Off-Jeans Tuesday, depending on the weather. Wednesday is Creeper Wednesday, rule number one of which is, "no actual creeping." Thursdays are Peppermint Thursdays, where peppermint tea is consumed and I endeavour to listen to some White Stripes. The weekend has not been allocated. We are creating a structure here which, to the casual observer, might seem meaningless or even unnoticable, but which gives meaning to an otherwise arbitrary separation of the week.
Three minutes ago a corn roast started. If I actually owned a pair of cut-offs, I would be wearing them. Regardless, I'm still going to go get my corn on.

Will

Student Playlist #2

2011-03-29T00:20:00.001-07:00

I've submitted a student playlist to Mars Hill in hopes of getting it published. Here's the finished product regardless. Enjoy,

Will

These songs are all terrible for studying to, but who's studying anyways?

1. Son House - Levee Camp Moan

- Son House had a job on the levee and a good looking woman, but after nearly ten minutes of this song, you'll be guaranteed to have the blues. This is the heart of the Delta blues.

2. Breathe Owl Breathe - Dragon

- A tale of a princess and a dragon who are pen pals. If you try to study to this, you'll be doing an injustice to your work.

3. Tom Waits - Green Grass

- I always hesitate to recommend Tom Waits to friends. If you think you can handle him though, this is one of his most subdued songs in recent years.

4. Buck 65 - Corrugated Tin Facade

- A haunting song off of his best album. Sorry K-os and K'naan, but Buck 65 is my favorite Canadian rapper and he's a CBC radio host to boot.

5. Johnny Cash - The Mercy Seat

- Covering Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Cash characteristically makes Cave's lyrics say exactly what he wants them to. You may want to listen more than once.

6. Blind Willie McTell - I Got To Cross The River Jordan

- That's right, more blues! Make sure you listen to the 4:37 version from his Library of Congress recordings because the recordings close out with a 1:51 refrain of the same name.

7. Josh Garrels - Zion & Babylon

- I still can't believe that I was lucky enough to see Josh Garrels live at TWU a few years back. I also can't believe he still doesn't have a Wikipedia article. Somebody get on that!

8. The Eels - Climbing To The Moon

- If you're ever feeling a little insane (for me it's the months of March and April), throw on some Eels and you will start to feel positively normal.

9. The Unicorns - I Was Born (A Unicorn)

- I don't know about you, but I love it when bands have theme songs. These guys are also from Montreal, so it's pretty much guaranteed that they will rock you.

10. John Lee Hooker - The Waterfront

- This is one of my favorites from John Lee Hooker. It's such a pure distillation of the blues and it's a perfect closing song.

Thursday on Thursday

2010-12-23T19:40:00.006-08:00

listening to "Rusty Cage" - Johnny Cash

Break is good. Holidays are good. Rest is good. I near burned myself out this semester and it's been nice to rest from that, to go to sleep reading Chesterton at night, and to wake up in the morning when I want to wake up. There are still things that I need to do, there are still responsibilities, and there is still stress, but it has slowed considerably.

listening to "As Ugly as I Seem" - White Stripes

I've been reading Chesterton's "The Man Who Was Thursday", reading "Paradoxes of Catholicism" by Robert Benson, and debating with a friend about Catholicism. Sometimes it tears me apart. I like Chesterton, I enjoy reading his stuff. The Man Who Was Thursday reminds me of a R.L. Stevenson short story called "The Suicide Club". It is dark and brooding with a noble and likable main character thrust into events beyond his ken. I can still see the ideas though. Chesterton is one of those authors which Catholics and people who wish they were Catholics will recommend. They usually will rave about a set of "Father Brown" stories, about a priest who doubles as a novice detective. It's not that I don't like Chesterton, but I can see the ideas germinating in Thursday that will eventually result in Chesterton's conversion to Catholicism. I don't like that. The more I read of Paradoxes, and the more I read in scripture, the more I see how grievous are the offenses that Catholic theology (if you can call it that) commits. Dad gave me some words recently that we need to be wary of anything that takes away from the power of the cross. Then, as I further explored the intricacies of Catholicism, it simply blew me away that one could be so blind to the very Word of God. Anyways, Catholicism gets me all worked up and the fam wants to watch a movie.

Will

Tree Rings and Tea Things

2010-09-10T10:00:00.004-07:00

Had my first class this morning; Geog 121 - Earth and Atmospheric Science. It fills up my lab requirement for TWU, but like every mandatory class here, I think I'm really going to enjoy this one. It was just the intro class today so as soon as the professor mentioned that his office was in the back of the Tree-Ring Lab it set the wheels turning and I spent the rest of the time engrossed in sketching the layout of ideally what a tree-ring lab would consist of (super sweet).
The apartment is shaping up very nicely and on my first shopping trip I purchased three different boxes of Celestial Seasonings tea; Chamomile, Sleepytime, and Original India Spice. I purchased them for the double purpose of having both tea and coffee to offer to house guests and so that I can get a feel for the drinking of tea, an area where I have barely any experience (I just finished my second cup of coffee this morning). It is pretty enjoyable stuff, but with the amount of people coming through our apartment and just generally hanging out, I'm burning through it pretty fast.
The beard is coming back in quicker than I expected so Henderson will not be flying solo for long, but in the meantime it can be rough going sometimes. The support received from guys is definitely heartening though.
I have one more class at 11:40 today that I am extremely apprehensive about; Math 101. I'm all prepped though; I already have the textbook, I bought a three-subject notebook this morning, I bought a scientific calculator at Staples last week (and then promptly found my long lost graphing calculator once I moved in), and I have drunk copious amounts of coffee this morning (read: buzzzzzzz). Bring it on Math 101!!! Just try me...
Will

Fresh

2010-09-09T10:10:00.002-07:00

I suppose you could say that the incubation period for this blog has reached a close. Back in March, when I published my last blog post, I had begun to get a nagging feeling about importing my blog to facebook; I'm not sure what it was, whether a lack of reader accountability or just that the publicness of the medium subtly changed the openness of what I wrote, but I decided to stop importing my blog and coinciding with this I halted all blog activity. Halting blog activity was only ever barely consciously to purge any facebook readership and make people forget that this blog existed, but hopefully it served that purpose. Regardless of my reasons, I suddenly feel refreshed, I feel as though there are things that I have been holding inside that need a forum (though this is more of a monologue) and so I have come full circle to the reasons why I started blogging in the first place. I must confess that there was a time when I questioned whether I would ever start blogging again, but alas here I am again and so, it seems, are you.
On to the poetry! I have not written as much as I would have liked to over this summer, but upon returning to the lower-mainland I have begun to feel my inspiration returning at a rapid pace. Here is a little something I penned while I was waiting for my bus in Langley. It even talks about real people and real places! Enjoy,
Will

Two-Step

Two-Step twitching at his neck
as though to shake a cold
or lose his breath
everybody stops to stare
to see his naked faults exposed
laid bare on pavement stuck with gum
and littered down with cigarettes

everybody - all the busy bodies
mime like Simon Says to him
some mock and some feel pity
but no body burns to even talk to him

Two-Step feels no need for charity
questioned he pretends to elegance
and all your sympathy will melt
like symphonies dissolving when
no matter what you've done or do
Two-Step turns and walks away from you

Storming...

2010-03-29T22:08:00.009-07:00

I have one post in my history, Sound From the Garages, which keeps getting spammed. I just went and deleted the 19 junk comments that had accumulated, and that wasn't even the first time. Unfortunately you can't just select them all and hit delete, it's a real pain to delete multiple comments on blogger. So I'm a bit skeeved. You might even say I'm a bit irate.
Anger is interesting; there's a righteous anger that does exist, but mostly that's just God, mostly we miss the point with our anger. We like to get up in somebodies grill when they do us wrong, at least I know I do. But do you know why Jesus stormed the temple? It wasn't for himself, it was for his Father. That's made pretty clear when the disciples remember Psalm 69:9, "Zeal for your house will consume me", referencing Jesus' zeal for his Father's house, not for himself. I mean Jesus was the one man who could really get righteously angry when somebody did him wrong, but he was the one man who only got angry on other people's behalf. When he calls the Pharisees a brood of vipers, he's not saying that in defense of himself. He straight up says it two verses before; "Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come."
So that means that a lot of the time when I get angry, it's just trite and trivial stuff. What it doesn't mean is that we shouldn't get angry. No way. Not even close. There are a lot of reasons why I don't believe in pacifism, but the main one is that we're called (especially as men) to get really mad at some stuff. One of them being sin, another being injustice. Men are also called to be protectors (I love the fact that my name means "resolute protector") and when it comes to that we should not be afraid to get violent. If somebody tried to hurt one of my sisters, I would seriously mess them up, I would not even hesitate.
Anyways, now I'm getting irate again, just thinking about guys that wouldn't lift a finger to protect their family. I'm not usually one for ranting of this sort in a blog post, there's an inherent lack of accountability in this medium that can make ranting dangerous, but sometimes I get passionate about stuff and I get carried away. But really, can you blame a guy for being passionate about something? No. You really can't. Keep it pregnant.

Will

Crickophany

2010-03-25T14:05:00.005-07:00

Listening to: Meaghan Smith - The Cricket's Orchestra
Weezer - Raditude

I've been reading Lewis Carroll lately. I started with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and then I finished that off with Through the Looking Glass. Then I read through the more serious Sylvie and Bruno and have just started reading Sylvie and Bruno Concluded. The Alice books were similar to what I expected (although they were a lot darker than I thought), but Sylvie and Bruno is a different thing entirely. The preface to part I was probably the best preface I've ever read, with Carroll delving into issues of mass-produced literature and producing original ideas, the urgency with which we should spend our time, ideas for projects he didn't think he would have time in his life to accomplish and hopes that others can, problems with "hunting as sport", and of course a bit of an introduction to the work at hand. If you never read Sylvie and Bruno itself, I would recommend that you read the preface.

I've been listening to Meaghan Smith lately (Except for a couple of songs, I wasn't that impressed by Weezer's Raditude). I first heard one of her songs in the movie 500 Days of Summer, where she did a cover of the Pixies "Here Comes Your Man". I didn't think about it much at the time, but then I heard the song when I was in the collegium and realized that it was a darn good cover of a Pixies song, and being as the Pixies aren't the kind of band I would ever think of somebody covering, I thought I would check the artist out. Her music has a super-chill indie feel, mixing a fifties pop sound with synthetic beats and a bevy of unique instruments. It's pretty low-impact stuff, all things considered, but it is a pleasant diversion and good background study music.

Anyways, midterms are fully done, as of this morning, and I'm looking forward to final papers, final projects, and finals. I [obviously] haven't blogged much this semester, but this is partly due to the fact that I'm so close in proximity to the bulk of the people I know, enabling face-to-face conversation as the preferred method of communication. Having said that, I'm saving up some real meat-and-potatoes material for my next post. The next post will also be the first to not be imported directly to facebook. The social networking scene is just not the right environment for a blog to flourish. Til the next poetry-infused blog post, keep it pregnant people.

PipeSmokingProfessor

Writer is not politically correct

2010-02-08T20:35:00.005-08:00

Untitled

She ascends in all her glory
her robe is virgin white and trimmed with gold
hands move like still-life albatross
cool with dew, beautiful

He came to bring fire on the earth

The master of the house had saved
His last, His finest, His funeral wine
her lips and chin are stained and drip
she's drunk her fill of wine
with dirt and blood her feet and knees are scathed

and zeal for His Father's house consumes Him

The bride is a used prostitute
a crippled whore who's been abused
She anoints Him for burial
the whore has saved her best perfume

and He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty

Listening to Jacaranda by Josh Garrels and Electroshock Blues by the Eels
I've never been one to explain my poetry, I feel that the poetry should be allowed to speak for itself and the reader should be allowed to understand the poem on a different level than the writer understands it. This is important. There are poems, however, that require a certain amount of explanation. A lot of the time poets who read their works aloud will give it a brief (or lengthy) introduction to ground the audience in what they are about to say, give them some sort of emotional stake or purchase in the poem to increase its impact. I appreciate how that might be necessary in vocal readings, but when someone is reading it for themselves, they should be allowed to encounter the poem on its own level. If a written poem needs some explanation, it should come after the poem.
Having said that, I think that this one could do with a little bit of explanation. The poem is essentially a love song about the church. It is paradoxical intentionally because the church in itself is such a paradox. On one hand we have Hosea, where God tells Hosea to marry a prostitute and then, when she leaves him and goes back to her old lifestyle, to take her back. Hosea is a powerful example of how God loves his people, Israel, but also the church. The church is the prostitute who keeps on going back to her sin, and we have plenty of problems, plenty of dark things in our past, but on the other hand the church is the bride of Christ. Though she is dirty and sinful, she is washed clean by the blood of Christ. This is essential for Christians in our post-modern world, especially younger Christians. Even though we see all these things that we don't like about the church and we see all these problems that the church has, it is absolutely and fundamentally important that we are part of the bride of Christ. So unless in the case of clear heresies, we need to do everything we can to stay in the church, to change it from the inside out yes, but not leave it because we disagree with little things the pastor says or little issues we have with authority (because issues with authority is a pretty big killer these days). We need to stop shopping around for a church that we like, we need to become committed to a community of believers. I know the metaphor sounds repetitive and cheesy, but we really do need to "plug in" to the body of Christ. God has been getting at me for the last few weeks about the importance of His church and I've been trying to write that poem for almost as long. So I'm excited to be finished it. I haven't got a title, but I hope it speaks for itself. Keep it pregnant people.

Park Ranger

Moving Past That

2010-01-23T03:19:00.003-08:00

My last attempt at making a schedule for my blogging (the best of the decade lists) ended in me losing all motivation to blog. That's the way it's been for weeks so I think it's about time I moved on. I had this revelation the other week that I didn't end up blogging about because I wanted to blog about some stupid top ten lists. This cannot be allowed to happen.
We all have our own understandings about what heaven will be like and we all interpret different passages of scripture to mean different things about it, but a lot of this is simply empty speculation that could be entirely misleading. This can lead us away from what we really need to focus on. The most important thing about heaven, and one of the clearest things about it that we can draw from scripture, is that we will be with God. Whether or not we will have electric guitars in heaven is completely irrelevant and so are a multitude of our other concerns. We will be with Jesus!!! and fundamentally that is enough.
The reason why I'm blogging this at three-thirty in the morning is that I went out to Denny's with some of the guys in the dorm and had some man chats and lots of coffee. I feel incredibly untired right now. It's been a good two weeks back at school so far, but I've got a monumental amount of coursework this semester. I finally got into my pols 312 class (I fought pretty hard for that one) so that cements my number of courses at five. It seems like a pretty normal number, but some of the classes, like math 101 and hist 135, have a colossal amount of weekly homework, which, in the case of the math, can be pretty challenging. So there we have it, I'm overworked, tired (not momentarily), full of joy for the ways God has been challenging me this week, and looking forward to the possibilities this semester holds. Also I miss my family and the people in town just a little bit. Unfortunately not enough to pull me away from Trinity this weekend as I have a bunch of things I need to do for next week, but enough to make me blog.
Although I'm not going to post a list of the top ten discoveries of the decade anymore, I still think that one of them deserves mention. I'm referring to GJ 1214b of course. What's that you ask? It's only the most earth like planet ever discovered. It's star is not too many light years away from us (within striking distance you might say), it's only about twice the size of earth, it's within the inhabitable distance from it's star, and it's covered in water. Kamino anybody? It was only discovered in the last days of the decade, but I'd say it still counts pretty good.
Now that I've gotten that out of my way, I feel like I can move on, so the next blog isn't constricted by what I was thinking I might want to write about when I was writing the last blog. That's just a dumb system. Keep it pregnant people.

Will

The Decade According to Will pt. 1

2009-12-31T23:41:00.008-08:00

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

2009-12-18T20:02:00.007-08:00

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

2009-12-09T23:51:00.002-08:00

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

2009-12-01T15:16:00.004-08:00

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

2009-11-23T10:10:00.004-08:00

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

2009-11-09T13:02:00.002-08:00

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

2009-11-05T10:55:00.002-08:00

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

2009-09-29T12:57:00.005-07:00

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

2009-09-14T19:21:00.003-07:00

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

2009-06-09T19:32:00.005-07:00

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

2009-06-07T13:30:00.002-07:00

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

2009-05-23T08:24:00.003-07:00

Listening to The Besnard L akes: 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

2009-05-20T18:58:00.004-07:00

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

2009-05-18T22:42:00.008-07:00

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

2009-05-17T13:50:00.003-07:00

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

2009-05-16T08:34:00.002-07:00

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)

2009-04-22T16:12:00.002-07:00

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)

2009-04-21T07:53:00.003-07:00

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'

2009-04-10T13:58:00.003-07:00

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

2009-03-30T10:55:00.004-07:00

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

2009-03-25T17:01:00.002-07:00

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

2009-03-12T12:10:00.002-07:00

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

2009-01-25T19:35:00.005-08:00

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

2009-01-23T01:17:00.004-08:00

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

2009-01-22T10:48:00.003-08:00

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

2009-01-20T20:46:00.001-08:00

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

Wallowing in Love and Capitalism

2008-12-25T12:46:00.004-08:00

So you know that monkey in Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium that kept on reaching for Jason Bateman. Well I got that monkey for Christmas. And it really is a love-monkey. A solidly constructed sock monkey that has arms perfectly shaped for hugging. And I mean perfectly shaped, ergonomically designed, the perfect hug formula, with just the right amount of all factors to make it a hug-monkey. On our way home from Kelowna the Volvo broke down outside Agassiz so we had to tow it into Burnaby. Unfortunately that means that Mindy (my Firefly) is stuck out in Aldergrove and I have too much stuff (including hug-monkey and an awesome old portable typewriter) to take on the bus so I'm kindof stuck in Burnaby for a while. It's not that great because I have to move into Langley on the 1st or before and I need to start work on maybe the 2nd and school on like the 4th or something. But hey, I'll get there eventually. In the meantime I'm going to do some typing on the typewriter, maybe spit out some masterpieces. Merry Christmas all!!

pipesmokingprofessor

Dawn to Darkness

2008-12-21T08:29:00.003-08:00

It's hard to believe that a Christmas could ever be spent away from home. Ever since we actually started celebrating Christmas (only about five years ago I guess) I've always been there, no matter where I'm at, I'll always show up for Christmas. This year I've been up in the Okanagan for the last week, seeing my incredibly cute new nephew Jonas and visiting all my friends and family up here, but with the weather conditions the way they are, driving home come Monday may not be a possibility. The roads are supposed to be a bit better tommorow, but there's that possibility that just looms over my head that we might not be able to make the trip. Then this morning I was reading Christoph's most excellent travel blog and I realized that he's going to be spending his Christmas in Liberia. I mean he doesn't even have snow, but the place of contentment that he has over there, because it's where God wants him to be, makes his blog entries so joyful. That's the kind of peace that I want, that's the kind of contentment that only God can give. I was reading my bible this morning and I came across this verse in Amos:

Amos 4:13
He who forms the mountains,
creates the wind,
and reveals his thoughts to man,
He who turns dawn to darkness,
and treads the high places of the earth-
the Lord God Almighty is his name.

God is in control.

Powder

2008-12-01T00:17:00.004-08:00

I believe this is the last poem that I wrote for my creative writing class that I actually edited and handed in. On Thursday, when I read three of my poems to the class, I had a sudden realization that most of my poems are really dark. Most of them seem to focus on the down and outs, the druggies, the prostitutes, "White Trash" and "Beardo". In fact this made me realize that there is a definate distinction between what I write and emo. To be certain, some of my stuff has been fairly introspective, but most of it is about other people or things. When it gets as dark as some of my stuff it's a small line, but it's a big deal. On that note here's the poem.

Powder
down the front steps
white sneakers left behind to bake in the sunshine
and far out in the field you lie
mesmerized by the white rabbit
white whale
albino everything in the sky

beneath you is a world of dark
you dig in black loam and find
oily white tuber roots
remember one time back home
dog's ear sitting in the trash can
maggots like ants, milling

your whole world turned around
and from then on
it was all ash from a chimney fire
or snow by the late night light of the streetlamp
the universe glimpsed from your bedside
white powder, illuminated dark

snorted in a downtown hotel
beauty takes its time
and then its toll
heads banging on a short carpet
think of nothing else
you don't remember anymore

awake to white walls and watching rerun tv
you OD'd and hit the floor
buck stops at the bottom
watching Charlie Chaplin faded Buster Keaton
pratfalls in a nearby hurricane
nothing fades to grey in film reels
just shades of black and white

so one day you'll walk out
put on a clean cotton shirt
good to the skin
ready for dirt stains
find a field
leave your shoes behind

Zen Master

Pillar of Smoke by Day

2008-11-30T00:34:00.002-08:00

Pillar of Smoke by Day

Suspended over the city
like the sepia tone frames
of an antique mushroom cloud
it's a pillar of smoke by day

Charcoal dark it rises up
to mingle with the sky
either man has built an idol
to worship the night gods
or God is pouring down black paint
to mark the earth

Below it is the burnt apartment shell
like a dead animal carcass
the smoke a cloud of dark flies
keep sentry and call the predators in
sirens howling at your ears
put out this toxic campfire
asbestos and wood fill up our noses
gaped wide in search of autumn

As you move through the city
your eyes are drawn
they follow it like Israelites
until a building shields your view
and you can look away

Park Ranger

Ashoka

2008-11-29T01:48:00.007-08:00

Listening to Kings of Leon - Sex on Fire

Last post I was listening to a really great song, Danger! High Voltage, and when it was done I put up the hyperlink to the video of it, which I unfortunately only barely glanced at. So then when I finally do watch the video and realize I need to change the link because it's pretty sketchy, I turn right around and post the most sketchy sounding song I can find. I mean what's with that. No, it truly is a good song and a not sketchy video (as well as being a really good band). My only initial complaint was that the main riff sounds strikingly similar to the one from Soundgarden's "Mind Riot", but I think that's just because he uses the same sound and manages to capture the same vibe, so not bad.
I'm now officially finished with my first class. (dropping out of philosophy of religion halfway through doesn't count) I handed in the rest of my poems for creative writing and had a public reading and some brownies that the prof made. All I'm waiting for now is my final marks (which have to be above 60% in order for me to advance to the next creative writing class). I also won the award for the student who was most likely to be late. A very dubious honor. Here's one of the poems that I handed in on Thursday. It's about a really great indian restaurant in Langley.

soundmime

Ashoka
It's sense of smell that draws you in
To find a crowded restaurant
And what you want you know
But finding chicken biryani
Is hard when you don't know the words
Of what your nose descries

Paper thin papadums for appetizer
Menu tells you what you want
It's butter chicken isn't it
The only one you understood

There are other choices now
If you're so inclined
Floury naan bread fills you up
Chunky biryani, cautioned to be hot

Eating with your hands tastes better
Feel every grain of rice in sauce
And every tender chunk of chicken
Disintegrating, butter melting
Curry yellow, in your mouth

Wash your hands in cold water
And return for pungent anise
Biryani in a box, waiting at the door
Lunch tommorow or the next
Or just when you get home

Blood Behind Your Ear

2008-11-27T04:36:00.003-08:00

Listening to Electric Six - Danger! High Voltage

Editing your work is important. This never really connected with me fully until last week on Sunday night. In my creative writing class a few of us have started up a "write club" for reading our stuff and giving and recieving constructive criticism. I read out some stuff that was totally freewritten and unedited and I got a lot of great ideas for it, but I realized how much better my stuff would be if I actually bothered to edit it. That's not to say that I don't (I do), but I'm not guerilla enough in my approach, I get too attached to what I write that I have a hard time changing it. I did this great freewrite about this actual person wandering around Surrey central station a while back so I decided to take all the constructive criticism on it from the first "write club" meeting, and get medieval with it. This is after editing.

Listening to Cold War Kids - Hang Me Up To Dry

Blood Behind Your Ear
You, middle aged man, wander through the bus stop crowd, cry Lucy with your head upturned. The pavement is your friend, it is your only friend. Cause Lucy is out there in the city, in a hotel room, on the floor, on a binge, with a snot slide burning at her cheek in fevered convulsion. In her eyes is infinity, the hotel bedside and the universe of stars and planets collide like her coke and LSD. But out here you wear down the rocks, caked blood behind your ear from when she left, two days ago, but you still call out her name. Throat bare and raw, chimes cut from a string, windtunnel backporch, untuned, unhinged, in love, in the city, waiting. You wonder was it drugs or a pusher brought her out and down? Or was it just running away? The blood behind your ear, testament to a bathroom fight with pillbottles and a razor. And you know it could be yours or hers, neither one of you is sure. So I look up to you, looking up as you walk by. You, middle aged man, keep calling her name. She's lost to the rest of suburbia, but you've left that world behind. You belong in the gutter and the motel room where she lies in waiting, not knowing. Mistress of mud, and you, middle aged man, will become the mud for her.

park ranger

2046

2008-11-25T01:44:00.003-08:00

I just finished watching 2046. Best movie I've watched in a long time. It walks a fine line. It lost its way often, without ever losing meaning. It was full of sex, but it was never obscene. It had science fiction, but only ever as a metaphor. It was hard to watch, but in the same frame compelling. It was beautiful and artistic, full of drawn out pauses and avant-garde cinematography, but it never alienates the viewer. I would recommend it, but unfortunately I don't think a lot of people would appreciate it, to be honest I'm not sure why I did. Not for the faint of heart or those with a short attention span.
I had a great test this morning. I only studied for it while I was driving to school, but I had taken surprisingly good notes so i think I did pretty good on the test. Next up is a whole slew of papers and approximately two poems that need doing. I could be doing the poems right now, but unfortunately I need to do the papers at the library and I haven't really had much time on campus now that I'm on the scc. And now that I'm acting director I probably will have even less time. I truly am fortunate that Kari is there to take the majority of the responsibility and show me how it all works.

fool sitting here typing

Vesuvius

2008-11-21T02:00:00.001-08:00

This wasn't one of the rejected poems, but it was given a terrible mark because apparently it didn't follow the criteria close enough. I'm okay with that. (it's also pretty bleak and almost verging on nihilism).

pipesmokingprofessor

Vesuvius
I'm raked over the hot loud mouth of Vesuvius
old man spewing words of senile wisdom
"The world is going to end tommorow Pompeii"
"Punk music is cyanide filling your veins"
as I turn around to protest, he holds high his sign
telling me I'm sinking this ship, but i feel different
and yell back "don't bring me down old man"
he rubs a gumstain with his toe
and becomes melted down into the pavement
walked on by a thousand feet, after being spat out
and after all, i'm just another one of these

Where I'm going is a place of seizure lights
people screaming on a low stage
closer now than ever before, it seems
we will jostle and mosh, fighting for a piece of them
rats trying to escape a flooding sewer
weeds fighting for sunlight in a crowded pond

The old man will not dissuade me
I will have my fix
inject my poison in full knowledge
his drugs are his homemade clean white signs
he's a little child clutching his blanket or favorite toy
at least I know who I am

All the Wrong Reasons

2008-11-19T04:06:00.002-08:00

listening to Rolling Stones: Can't Always Get What You Want

We sit on a sofa our whole lives. Getting worked up over our soap opera girlfriends. The monologue is our vehicle of choice. We don't want to speak, but we'd rather us than anyone else. On the backs of napkins there are half thought phrases. Boxes litter this room, left from warranty deals or just moving your things. you came, you sat, you've never done much since. I think it's called a burn out, but it sure feels like I'm fading away. You don't sleep enough to stay in tense or in person, blackouts if you try to go somewhere. It becomes a prison that you have a key to. You grasp what you need to do, but there is so much of it that you don't sleep. You still wont do it though.

listening to The Clash: London Calling

I finally understand why I get so little sleep. knowledge of self is important, but I often can't understand how I feel or why I do things until I write them out. I would say the reason I get so little sleep is that, although I know it's important in order to function properly, there are so many things that I could be doing with my time that somehow in my mind I lessen its importance. Case in point is what I'm doing right now. On one hand I haven't slept for quite a while now, but on the other hand I've finally been able to articulate why that is, so I'm going to finish typing before I go to bed. Part of it is certainly conditioning. I pull all nighters so often that my sleep meter doesn't register as loud in my mind, kind of like a concience. I will hereby refer to it as my sleep concience (even though it really has no moral significance).

pipe smoking professor

Child of the Trumpeter

2008-11-08T17:10:00.003-08:00

This is one of the rejected poems, due to the fact that it's an extended metaphor rather than multiple metaphors. May be a bit disturbing.
pipesmokingprofessor

You are the egg of a regal swan
Laid with care upon a feather nest
Your mother watching over you
With jealous guardianship
Entrusted to her faithfulness

Not much swayed her eye upon that day
A ripple or a summer breeze
She moved to guard her charge
And from the reeds a hungry hand
Lunged and held its daily bread

Entrenched within a woolen satchel
He brought you to his country home
Where you were prodded poked and pierced
your lifeblood spilled and from you stolen
Sucked dry by old men and little boys

Now you sit upon a kitchen shelf
No natural beauty to attract
You're painted bold and clear
The blue and white of August sky
The red of prostituted pouting lips

A Mildly Interesting Diversion and a Frustrated Monologue

2008-11-07T01:53:00.005-08:00

What I'm listening to today is what the soundtrack would be if my life was a movie. I was reminded earlier today of this gimmicky list that made the rounds a couple of years back, where you would put your itunes on shuffle and the order in which they played would correspond to parts of the soundtrack to the movie of your life. Pretty inane, but I just finished burning all my music onto my computer so I've pulled it up and here's the list.

Opening credits: "These Stones Will Shout" - Raconteurs
Waking up: "A Rush of Blood to the Head" - Coldplay
First day of school: "Symbol in my Driveway" - Jack Johnson
Falling in love: "Pork and Beans" - Weezer
Fight song: "Mother Nature's Son" - The Beatles
Breaking up: "Love is a Miracle" - Delirious
Prom: "One After 909" - The Beatles
Life: "Michelle" - The Beatles
Mental breakdown: "Trip Through Your Wires" - U2
Driving: "God Put a Smile Upon Your Face" - Coldplay
Flashback: "King of Fools" - Delirious
Getting back together: "August 30th" - Delirious
Wedding: "Waking the Dead" - Sam Roberts
Birth of a child: "Quiet Storm" - Toby Mac
Final battle: "Consolacao" - Smokey and Miho
Death scene: "November Has Come" - Gorillaz
Funeral song: "Everything I Said" - The Cranberries
End credits: "All Star" - Smash Mouth

Overall it didn't work near as well as the first time I did it. There were quite a few repeat artists (although I do have 150 Beatles songs on my itunes) and there was some music that I simply don't listen to anymore (Smash Mouth, Toby Mac). There also some pretty bad fits like Pork and Beans for falling in love, Mother Natures Son for the fight song, Love is a Miracle for the breakup song, and... Actually almost the whole thing didn't fit. That's really dissapointing. Y'all should give it a shot anyways, it's a mildly interesting diversion.

I had a tough time with my crwr prof today. Throughout the semester we've had to write a number of poems, but they were always pretty specific as to what we could write about, so today when she gave us an assignment to do some freewriting I was pretty happy. Unfortunately I read further and I realized that the catch was I had to pick a specific color and write it on that. There are two reasons why I would be pretty choked about this. Firstly, having done quite a lot of freewriting previously, I've found that when you start freewriting, your thoughts will be generally be pretty jumbled. It's only after you've got that initial confusion out of the way that you eventually settle on what you're writing about. If I started freewriting with a color, I would almost certainly not end with the color. I voiced this concern and stayed after class to discuss it with her, but only minor concessions were made. It wasn't until later, on my way home, that I realized the real reason it jarred with me so much. The real reason I don't like it is that I won't be able to write anything meaningful. The scope of my poem has been confined to someone else's purely physical topic. When I write poetry, I like it to be meaningful, to be able to impact somebody. There is a big difference between poetry written just for the sounds, images, etc. and political poetry. I try to write the latter. There is certainly something to be said for simply practicing your technique, but in this class we have to put a lot of work into our poems, editing multiple times, and I would like to have something to show for that. So I will definately overstep my boundaries on this (I have on all my other poems) and accept the bad mark. All I need in the class to advance is a 60% and it's not worth sacrificing your academic standards just for better marks. So that's that for that.

zen master

Morning Dreams

2008-10-29T17:32:00.002-07:00

listening to Matthew Good - Champions of Nothing

I had a dream last night. I dreamt that I had a pregnant girlfriend. At the same time I had to go to China to visit my family. the baby was going to be born while I was back in China, something to do with my grandfather. I looked at my girlfriend and I told her "Have you ever had a conversation where you miss one little word, just one single word and all of a sudden the conversation doesn't make sense anymore. You have no context to place what's being said." and then I paused and was going to tell her that that's how I felt about my life, but I woke up. I don't know why I dreamt that, and I don't know why it felt so important, but i can't get it out of my head because sometimes I feel that way. It's as though I'm living in a dream and I all of a sudden wake up, take a step backwards, and look at my life, wondering "how did I get here". I had a word given me when I left Glenmore to move back to the coast. It might have been Bob who gave it, but it was about a compass pointing True North. He said I was going true north, that the direction I was going was where God wanted me to go. Sometimes I look at where I am and that's all I have to go on... God wants me here...

zen master

Dealers vs. Dealers

2008-10-26T13:20:00.003-07:00

listening to Neil Young - On The Beach

I had a discussion today about drugs, about dealers. Everybody was pretty animated, everybody had their piece to say. I was reminded of a Bob Doede class at Trinity. There was a few classes in which we discussed the problem of evil. It was heavy, we were discussing how a loving and omnipotent God can allow people to suffer. How can he allow little children to be raped and pregnant women to step on mines?

listening to Neil Young - Vampire Blues

How can he allow natural disaster to wipe out thousands of "innocent" people? There are a number of answers and the discussion became heated. Especially as Christians we all had our views on the problem of evil, it's something we had probably all had to think about. At the end of the section on the problem of evil, Doede said something that will stick with me. He said that we were welcome to our theories and that we should think about it, that we should try to reason out how a loving and omnipotent God can let these things happen, but there was one thing we had to be able to do. We had to be able to bring our theories forward and present them to the little child and his family, to the pregnant mother and her family, and to the victims of the natural disaster. If we can not do that, if our theories are divorced from the actual suffering, then we should not hold them.

listening to Neil Young - Revolution Blues

So we were talking about drugs. And we were talking about dealers. And it occured to me that we can talk about throwing them in jail, we can talk about shooting them, we can talk about giving the addict his drugs for free, but we have to be able to see these people when we pass judgement. We have to be able to know these people before we can say a word or pass a law. If you know someone, and love them, then you can condemn them to death. But not before. We have a real problem in our society, drugs are an enormous problem. And I want to find a solution, I'm sure most of us do. But before we do, we have to get to know the people who are on drugs and who are dealing drugs. We can't pass by on the other side of the street any longer.

fool sitting here typing

Enter the Cheese

2008-10-24T00:21:00.003-07:00

listening to Sigur Ros - Hoppipolla

I confess to being a cheesy movie buff. Not even joking. Back when I was living in Burnaby, Alpha and I would go to the theaters on a regular basis; not to see great quality flicks, but to see the stuff that looked really enjoyable. Like Mr. Magoriums Wonder Emporium (great movie by the way). I guess I just never stopped watching cheesy movies after that. I went to see Speed Racer in the Imax, and Sammy and I were the only two people in the entire theater, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I've watched countless other cheesy movies, animated flicks, kids movies that were actually really fun to watch. Tonight I watched Penelope. I know. It was surprisingly good though. Sure it had its kitschy moments, but overall it told a really good story and actually had something to it, unlike a lot of comedies these days. Plus, it ended with Hoppipolla by Sigur Ros. What's not to love.

Soundmime

Spiral

2008-10-21T14:29:00.003-07:00

Bad things come in pairs, or that's the hope. It's unfortunate, but I missed a class in philosophy of religion. Unfortunate because when I went to class yesterday I realized that the class I missed had been the midterm. Unfortunate because I could have easily aced it. Unfortunate because it was worth 30% of my mark. So I drop it like it's Pluto and I feel a lot better. The class sucked anyways and I still have a full time course load without it. So we're good right, but it still sucked. This morning it just gets worse. The car is having transmission problems, it wont stay in gear, but I take it to school anyways, thinking that it's not too bad. I actually make it all the way to Langley before it loses all functionality. I creep in 1st to Langley Center, park the car, and take a bus to school. I'm a good half an hour late because I missed my connection at the Newton exchange by about 1 minute. It turns out all right, but I still have to bus it back to Langley to find a garage for the car. Woo hoo, sounds fun. So I hope bad things only come in pairs because I don't think I could take anything more. For instance, what if my car were stolen. Now that would truly suck.

Park Ranger

Exercise your Franchise

2008-10-14T09:52:00.002-07:00

Did you know that, to vote, all you have to have at the polls is somebody to sign for you to say that you are who you say you are. That's pretty easy to find. That's stinking easy to find. Do you work today? Is that the excuse you're using to not vote? I'll tell you what, your employer is legally obligated to give you time off work to vote. Take that time. Vote. Did you realize it was voting day late in the afternoon and you don't think you'll have time to hit the polls? They're open until 7:00 tonight; just don't wait too long, do it now. Do you not have transportation to the polls? They should be walking distance, get some fresh air. If they're not, phone the NDP and they might be able to give you a ride (you don't even have to be voting for them). Elections Canada has a handy polling station finder on their website if you don't know where to vote. People, there is really no reason why you shouldn't exercise your franchise and vote. The most commonly used excuse, however, is that people simply don't like any of the candidates. That's the worst load of crap I've ever heard. If you really thought about, you would at least find a candidate that wasn't quite as bad as the others. Choose one and vote. This is serious stuff people.

Pipe Smoking Professor

Whatever happened to White Trash and Beardo

2008-10-11T01:41:00.004-07:00

listening to New and Improved Nummy Mixtape - Various Artists

Turn it on shuffle, it needs mixing.
They say that most geniuses produce their greatest works before 30, most of them earlier. That doesn't leave me much time.
I was taking a walk this evening in Aldergrove, wearing shorts, a big old jacket, no socks with shoes, and a toque covering my nearly bald head. I was wondering where I was headed when I realized what I looked like. For all the time that I lived in Summerland I had inhabited the hobo look, but now, as I walked the streets of Aldergrove, I was quintessential white trash. And I thought, "Whatever happened to White Trash and Beardo?". It was a good question so I pulled it up on my computer when I got home. It's seven stanzas in and it's beautiful as it sits, but it's only the very beginning of the story. I think the reason it's so short right now, the reason I have been so slow with writing it, is that I love it. I'm in love with the concept, I'm in love with the story, it's like my favorite child, I look at it as my best piece to date and I honestly don't know that I could write something better. Therein lies my dilemma, I know that I'm not a great writer, I know that my skills are not developed, and I know what would happen if I tried to write it now. It simply wouldn't live up to all that it could be. So do I wait on it, do I let it get stale? I am, in this moment, the embodiment of white trash; I feel like I need to capture that feeling, bottle it like dandelion wine*, put it on paper so I don't ever forget it. This moment is crucial.

fool sitting here typing

darkness at the edge of dawn

2008-10-01T03:50:00.003-07:00

I was feeling really out of sorts yesterday. I hadn't been getting enough sleep (it's 3:52 am right now), my pols classes had been really boring, my philosophy class that I had waited on campus for hours for was cancelled, I was having trouble finishing "Don't Waste Your Life" (it's finished now), and the time spent waiting for my philosophy class was spent watching a really stupid movie (Saved). So I sat down and poured out my frustration onto the page. It's pretty dark and strange, so be forewarned.

Drowning Out the Demons

vampire, you are drowning out the demons
stay your hand
stop your unadulterated sidewalk signage
they are whores
but you are breaking up their broken homes
vampire, you refuse to look in a mirror
so look at me
so tell me you have white hands
vampire, you are burning witches every day
so burn me
just tell me that you feel the fire
vampire, it's just you now
the last suspect has just been stoned
se tell me that it's me
so roll out your guillotine
or just a kiss of death
one on either cheek

fool sitting here typing

Aldergrove Rockstar Sangiovese '08

2008-09-28T12:12:00.007-07:00

listening to Sam Roberts - Love at the End of the World (album)

I've come to a point where it's not worth my money to keep X. There's a certain amount of insurance money that I could get back and taking the bus is cheaper than paying for gas. The only problem is that I can't seem to part with X. I feel like a father who's going to sell his child because he can't afford to keep him. That just feels heartless, you have no idea.
Last week I emailed in one of the best pieces I've ever written. It was Monday night and I decided that I was going to pull an all-nighter and finish it, because I was already late. I went out and bought a 12 pack of Rockstar for the fridge and plowed my way through it. If any of you know the way that I study, you'll know that it's the worst possible way. Before I actually write a word I will do everything else that it's possible to do, and then, if I'm still awake, I'll buckle down and do what I need to do. Well, it turns out you can do a lot in one night (have you ever heard of the band Cibo Matto). Eventually, however, I started typing. I actually had a really good story lined up to write, that any other day i would have enjoyed typing, but the fact that i had to do it made it really hard. I only drank 4 of the Rockstars (I found out later that it was about double the amount that an adult can usually consume without feeling the side effects (I don't think I was doing that bad (then again, I was shaking all over on my way to school))), but at 6:15 in the morning, right before I left, I emailed in my short story. And it was brilliant. I don't like to brag about my stuff, but this was straight up good. Anyways, the point is that I am living proof that all-nighters work (although the next day I didn't wake up until both my classes were over).

Park Ranger

RADIANT

2008-09-24T23:18:00.002-07:00

I am radiant
a lone beacon in a dirty underground
I am radiant
white heat on the road to nowhere
flashbulb underwater
a torch in a room full of stale air
let it shine
burning bush in the desert night
I am radiant
cold reflection of shiny and bright
I am radiant
warm fire at the top of the mountain climb
lonely lighthouse
not going away with the summertime
swampwater firefly
this little light aint a candle, but I flicker and burn
I twist when the wind blows, in the tunnels I turn
runnning out of control on a highway, my high beams
slow down traffic, like burning matches slow my heartbeat
a little slow tonight for my daydreams,
but little do I know I'm like a mirror
or a nickle on the pavement
reflecting what you're saying
I am radiant

pipe smoking professor

X bites the dust

2008-09-17T14:07:00.004-07:00

So the day before yesterday Sam f-books me about paintballing, and he asks me about the X-tra Cab. I take a day to respond, and yesterday morning I reply that it's doing well and there are no problems with it. Nice Will, real nice. So after my last class of the day I start it up and everything is tickety-boo. I notice that I've traveled a ridiculous amount on $20 worth of fuel, so I decide to tank up. When I'm at the pump, however, my resolve weakens at the thought of paying $1.47/litre and I decide to put only $20 in again. Good thing. I sit in the parking lot for a while, eating my disgusting white spot burger and fries, and when I pull out there is a strong scent of gas. However, I'm in a gas station and I just put gas in X, so it makes sense. A ways down the road, X just isn't driving quite right, the smell of gas is still present, and i have a bad feeling. However, I somehow made it all the way to the Kwantlen campus in Langley. I stop to buy a textbook at the bookstore there and when I get back to X I realize that there's a trail of gas running behind it and a little puddle sitting under the passenger side. Not good. I don't have any mechanical skills, or even any tools, so I do my best to try and find out where the leak is coming from. I can't really find it. This sucks. From there it's only 22 km to my house so I figure I can make it back and find out what's wrong once I'm there. Not true. I make it about as far as 216th and Fraser Highway before my plans really collapse. X is having serious trouble so I stop at the gas station to see what's wrong with it. I put some oil in, even though there's an 'acceptable' amount already in there. Still the same. Then I decide that there's really nothing for it but to try and make it home in any shape. I make it as far as the gas station across the street. X is having problems with throttle control, and those are problems I'm not qualified to treat. Fortunately I have the number of Clover Towing in my wallet from my last adventure in Langley. X gets towed. I am sad. I have to take the bus this morning and turn up half an hour late for class. It's like my life has been a constant downward spiral ever since Sam asked me how X was doing. People say I'm lucky, I say 'if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all'.

Park Ranger

Irregularily Published News Edition Presented in Glorious Monotone

2008-09-05T12:56:00.005-07:00

You know what the first thing I felt when I got my cast off was? Relieved... and then scared. Of course I felt relieved because I had put up with the stupid thing for a good month at least and I was finally free, but I felt scared because I felt powerless. The lower half of my leg and my foot were so weak that it was hard walking on them, my heel had lost most of its flesh so I was stepping directly on the bone which made it painful to walk. Running was out of the question and is still pretty hard. As I walked to the highway to hitchhike back to Summerland I realized that I had just lost the ability to do a whole catalogue of things associated with youthful athleticism, I felt destined to grow into a bitter old man well before my time. It was completely irrational, but it scared me.
It took me a while and I went through a series of misadventures, but I've finally made it to the coast. Driving down in the X-tra Cab proved more difficult than I thought. It was the first time I had really driven standard, I had only driven around the block a couple of times a few months back, so it felt like I was jumping into the deep end making the trip. I'm pretty sure that I've stalled it a few thousand times already, trying to get it into first. The other problem with coming down in the x-tra cab was that the alternator doesn't really work that well (I wouldn't say it's completely fried because so far it hasn't died while driving during the day). The battery died about 13 km outside of Princeton so I stood by the side of the road with my hazards on in the middle of the night and waited for about half an hour before someone stopped. It turns out they were a transmission mechanic and had a shop in town so they loaned me an extra battery and put my dead battery on charge. I spent the night in the ridiculously expensive Deers Head motel. I guess I may be spoiled having stayed in hostels, but $60 seemed pretty expensive for just one night. I should have just stayed in the truck. In the morning I bought an extra battery from the transmission mechanic and completed the trip with relatively few incidents.
I've already registered for all my courses, but I've missed the first week of classes. Not a good start, but it's not too serious of a blow and I should get back into the swing of things fairly quickly. The house is pretty cool, it's just a basement suite and my room is pretty small, but I've got enough room, it's pretty clean, fairly new, and so far I get along pretty well with my house mate.
That's pretty much the news edition of this blog, presented in glorious monotone (I never realized it was possible to type in monotone, but apparently it is). Tune in next time for more exciting adventures in the life of the
pipe smoking professor

The Smell of Autumn

2008-08-23T15:40:00.003-07:00

Went for a walk the other day and as soon as I got out of the door I smelled Autumn. It's just a subtle smell, but it's one of my favorites. It was overcast, but down the road there were still men out in their yards, mowing or trimming hedges. It's as though they knew what was coming and were trying to push it back, filling the air with the smell of freshly mown grass to cover the deadly scent of fall.
I do love the summer, but in the same way I like the winter, because it's a fun season. Autumn, however, is something special. In Autumn the leaves turn, you start smelling woodsmoke, there's a crispness in the air, everything is dying in the fall, but it's in passing that nature is its most beautiful. I don't subscribe to the season of spring. It's still pretty decent, especially at the end of a long cold winter, but there's not the same mystery as the Autumn.
The other part of the fall is that November is the saddest month of the entire year. September is back to school, new beginnings, a new year. October is color and fire and the joie de vivre is in everything. But November is like purgatory, everything dies in November, but we're still left waiting for the winter. It rains in November, not a warm spring rain, but a bitter rain. In the spring it's tears of joy, but in November it's tear of sadness.
So I welcome the smell of Autumn. I won't fight against it like the yardmen and lawnmowers. I'll embrace it.

smell it in the air
all the yardmen push it back
but fall is coming

Dropping the Bomb

2008-08-06T19:35:00.004-07:00

listening to K-os - Love Song

today is the anniversary of Hiroshima's destruction, nuclear style. How does one celebrate such an auspicious occasion? How indeed, one may set of fireworks or burn a mock-city, Guy Fawkes style. One might take some time, have a moment of silence. Reading Watchmen again a few days ago and realize how hard it is for me to take a position on it. We grew up taught that destroying Hiroshima was the only way to end a bloody war, that it was neccessary. It's true in a way, if Hiroshima hadn't been bombed, and Nagasaki a couple of days later, the resulting casualties from the invasion of japan would have been greater than the loss of life in both cities.

listening to Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World

That's not all we have to consider. You might call into account the deaths from radiation poisoning after the fact, you might call into account that we introduced the single worst weapon of mass destruction in history. We introduced mustard gas in the first world war and changed the face of warfare. Splitting the atom changed it again, just as radically. There's no real defence from nukes, and we're making more and better/worse ones all the time. If a nuclear war started now, at this late stage, we'd be looking at the collapse of civilization as we know it, literally a man-made doomsday. We unleashed something we didn't fully understand.

listening to Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah

If we hadn't dropped the bomb we would still have nuclear weapons today, they still would have been developed, even if the Americans hadn't done it. If the war had have gone on, where would we be today, I don't know. It may have been another Vietnam. What would we have to become to win the war, what did we become? The people that would have died, would have been mostly soldiers, they knew what they were getting into. The people that did die were civilians, they were "innocent". But really, what's the difference? They're all people. We mourn them all the same. I've never really been able to fully come to terms with whether it was right or wrong, and there's always been something nagging me that says I should know. That we all should know. That if the time comes again to make that decision, that we would make the right decision. It's something we really have to understand, but it takes knowing ourselves for what we really are. It takes looking at who we are (our history defines us) and facing the fact that we may have been wrong. That we may have done something profoundly wrong. I don't know how I should celebrate, or if I should, maybe the only way to honor its history would be to search it out, to find out for ourselves if we were right or if we were wrong.

pipesmokingprofessor

Parallel Universes

2008-07-31T14:56:00.006-07:00

listening to MGMT - Time to Pretend

Today I went to the Summerland Health Center to get my foot re-x-rayed. I crutched and hobbled all the way from Orchard Crescent to the Tim Hortons and got a ride up the hill because at that point I was too exhausted and my arms hurt too much to really consider scaling it on crutch. I was fifteen minutes late because I had thought the appointment was at Dr. B Harrold's office. I was also fifteen minutes early at Dr. Harrold's office to put the distance in perspective. Fortunately, even though they book every ten minutes, the x-ray specialist took pity and slotted me in. I didn't get any results back today, but I'm going for an appointment with Dr. Harrold next week, I've got my fingers crossed (really, it's getting pretty hard to type (with my fingers crossed, I wasn't referring to the foot (although it would be pretty crazy to learn how to type with one's feet))). As I was walking through the lobby I saw someone familiar and said hi (it took me a moment to realize I actually did know them) and she stared at me for a full, awkward, long second before realizing who I was and said hi. The usual "what did you do to your foot" followed by "I broke it" and "are you still working at timmies" followed by "yes" and then an awkward silence followed by me mumbling something about having to go and walking out the door, and I realized that we really had absolutely nothing in common now I'm no longer working at tim hortons and a few months have gone by. It's almost as though we'd been inhabiting parallel universes for the last few months. And it's funny how often that happens. We change. And if you haven't seen someone for a long time it can be like getting to know an entirely new person. I know for myself that I change constantly. Sure there will be things that will always stay the same about me, but I'm not the same person that I was seven months ago and I never will be that person again. I know that when I move back to the coast there will be a lot of people that I'm good friends with that I will appear to be an entirely different person to. For the last 7 months I've inhabited and been influenced by an entirely different environment, a parallel universe, to the lower mainland. It's not better and it's not worse, but it's radically different. So I'm nervous, apprehensive, looking forward to seeing you, looking forward to getting to know you again. I haven't kept in touch that well, and for that I'm sorry, but I do miss you. So here's to meeting again in a month or so.

fool sitting here typing

In Metronome

2008-07-28T17:20:00.002-07:00

I was born on a cold day in Metronome
with the factories beating in time
and in an old, old cradle of sorts
my heart made the city's beat mine

now I grew up a son in the steely streets
my father the son of a beggar
and though the woman who gave me my life was alive
the city was my mother
and I would have no other

please come back to me woman in Metronome
you left me the day I was born
but I'll be waiting for you, here in Metronome
waiting for you to come home

as a young man I rode on the trolley car
and searched through the city for renassiance
I wrote my first poem about the sun
and I gave it to a friend

he took the first train getting out of here
and I never bothered to follow
though I miss them both and will shed a tear
I wouldn't take the train
and I know I would do it again

please come back to me here in Metronome
you have my words and my song
I'll be waiting for you, here in Metronome
waiting for you to come home

when I was a man my father died
as he walked from the house on the corner
he died in the streets with a pocket in his hand
and was washed into the gutter
for the city was his lover

interlude

it was another cold day in Metronome
and I found you in a cafe
we talked for hours until you went home
and I waited for you the next day

now each day I could find I would meet you there
and we'd ride on the trolley for hours
we'd sit on the tops of the factories
and visit the birds in the square
we thrilled just breathing the air

now the winter had passed and the spring had come
and I brought you factory flowers
then springtime passed by and the summer came
we walked in the shade or the shadow of towers

soon autumn had come into Metronome
then we felt the chill in the air
each day we would meet and go wandering
we loved and were loved in return

but November, November I should have known
I stood in the leaves in the square
I waited for you in the steely streets
I waited, but you were not there

and I cannot abandon cold Metronome
though I'd search the world entire
my heart beats in time with the factories
the beat of my heart would expire
though for you I would die

please come back to me darling in Metronome
without you my heart will go cold
I'll be waiting for you, here in Metronome
waiting for you to come home

Invasion of the Clumsy Lovers

2008-07-28T12:00:00.004-07:00

listening to Clumsy Lovers

I had an epic dream last night, a really great one. It was an invasion of the bodysnatchers dream, pretty similar to the new The Invasion one, but it still had the awesome pods from the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Either way it was pretty scary. It started out as Dad acting pretty strangely and I was getting kindof suspicious of him, but then Dad asked Mom something really personal and judging by the way she answered somehow I found out that it was actually the rest of the family that had already been changed into alien clones and only Dad and Alpha were still themselves. Anyways, we all had to get out of there to try and find a safe house or warn the government of the invasion already underway. Eventually we got seperated and ended up at this old warehouse. I don't know what happened to Alpha and Dad, but Alpha's Jetta was on the second floor of the warehouse and Dad's flatbed was in the parking lot. Also we had met up with this little boy who's parents had already been changed and he had ended up with me. So anyways I ran into the truck with the boy and we were trying to find the key, but we were being mobbed by the crazy emotionless changed people so we had to boot it out of the truck and up to Alpha's car on the second floor. The only problem was that it had somehow gotten onto the second floor and the only way to get it down was to back up and drive as fast as we could off the second floor balcony, and that's where my dream ended.
I try not to tell people my dreams because they're usually pretty crazy and I'm not the greatest at telling them, but when I have a really vivid one I can't help it. Credits for the eastcoast music go Ashley travelling in Newfoundland. In other news I've got a crazy cast on my foot/leg because the x-ray technician thinks the break extends into the joint on the bone so I'm still off work, but hopefully I can get it off in a week or so because it's getting pretty boring. Also I'm working on a sweet song called "In Metronome" which I'll post as soon as I'm done.

Park Ranger

Lamp

2008-07-21T20:19:00.003-07:00

I broke my lava lamp. In the cluttered room I stumbled, struggling with a puffy sleeping bag and knocked it off the desk. It happened instantly, there was no bullet time, no beautiful memories of hours spent gazing into its limitless depths and pondering the mysteries of the universe, no last moment grasp at its falling, lifeless, beauty. There was no time. One moment it was standing like a resolute sentinel, guarding the deskspace, and the next it was lying broken on the floor, never again to shine. I knelt as best as I could, encumbered by my half-cast, to mourn the loss, but necessity drove me onwards. I hobbled up the stairs, a feat which I was hesitant to repeat as I had done it only moments before. With towels and rags I dried its clear blood from the ground and swept its broken body and organs into an empty candy bag. I will miss you lava lamp... always.

pipe smoking professor

pulsing ruby jar
no more heat in your body
I lament your death

broken

2008-07-20T23:01:00.003-07:00

It sucks being broken. On Wednesday night I was playing capture the flag in the dark, in bare feet, and I went to jump over a wall to get into my home base (with the opposing teams flag). I couldn't see what was on the other side and ended up sortof flailing and smashing my foot on the cement. Breaking it... or at least one of those bones in it. So here I sit, my foot up on Prince's cage, swollen up and puffy, confined in a half-cast, in the blazing heat of summer, trying to type. It's safe to say it was a stupid move.

Bird on the Hanging Tree

2008-07-11T17:57:00.003-07:00

clawing at the crimson branch
and holding through the storm
of wild, throbbing screaming flesh
of old and young alike
of wool and dirt, a little bird
a little slowly understood
yet wholly free and holding still
among the body maelstrom

pound the mud and raise a toast
build nothing
know nothing
but round and round they go
call it a dance floor
call it a flesh fair
call it a warzone
call it a celebration
meaningless but for the battle
won on a muddy proxy field
a spectator war that everyone sees
a little bird fallen from the hanging tree
but round and round they dance
feathers in their hats and blood on their feet

albumness

2008-06-16T19:01:00.003-07:00

We had a pretty blazing hot, shirtless working day today. It was a pretty greasy day all things considered, but at least the weather was alright. I've just been listening to Cake and Weezer and I've been trying to decide what album to buy. Should I buy Weezer's Red Album or should I buy Cake's Fashion Nugget. It's a tough choice because I really love Weezer and this new album promises to be a killer, but I also want to branch out and I've really been getting into Cake because they've got such a unique and cool sound. It's a tough choice. Any suggestions?

Park Ranger

Festival Sunset

2008-06-11T21:13:00.004-07:00

sunlight on the mountain
festival
with the joyful people
gathered on the hill
sometimes
the joyful people
gather on the mountain too
sometimes
the waters rise
sometimes
I get drowned in the night tide
copyright of Luc Lhereux
circa two-thousand and two

but sometimes
baby sometimes
I think of you

The sun is going down
but on the hill
the joyful people gather still
sometimes
a word of doubt will pull them back
and beat them black and blue
sometimes
I burn the things
that keep me to

but sometimes
baby sometimes
I think of you

we're in the dark of night
the festival
will pass us by
we've come down from the hill
sometimes
the joyful people
sit entombed in wood and steel
sometimes
we burn the midnight candle through
sometimes
we sit in silence, watch the moon
sometimes
in dreams I walk the city streets

but sometimes
baby sometimes
I dream of you

soundmime

perfectly still

2008-06-09T16:14:00.002-07:00

listening to Bright Eyes - A Perfect Sonnet

Summerland is a town in stasis. Nothing happens really. On the weekend we had Action Fest and everybody got out of their houses and watched the parade and went to the beer garden and danced through the night at the Summerland dance. And in the morning everyone awoke and went to work and the lady serving coffee missed our order because she had been at the dance, but on the tommorow of yesterday, nothing's changed. Everything has returned to normal like a rubber band or a boomerang.

listening to Bob Dylan - Tangled up in Blue

Sometimes it gets to me, I like to do things. I like to do things that stay, things that make a concrete change in the world I live in. In mmorpg's, programmers try to give gamers the illusion of the power to change things, you're slotted into instanced events where you can defeat a boss or a battalion of enemies, but the fact of the matter is that game companies simply can't afford to let gamers make concrete changes in a game world with other players. Things happen, like the parade, but when all is said and done it won't affect anybody else. Life shouldn't be like a game. We can change concrete things in our world.

listening to The Pixies - Where is my Mind

Sometimes it feels like we`re set in stone, we do the same things every week, we say the same things when the same things happen, and we do the same thing every time when we get tired of it... we go on a bloody vacation. I don`t want to go on a vacation. Before I went to the Timothy encounter I was apprehensive because with all these conferences and events we get all fired up and ready to go when we leave, but when we get home nothing has changed. We`re the same person as when we went, we haven`t changed, we just wasted our time and our money and we go back for another helping next year and to a dozen different conferences in between. It`s a bit like taking drugs, we take our supplements to keep our bodies healthy, but when we don`t get stronger we just take more and our body learns to depend on them until we can`t stand up on our own. And we will... We will continue to take our drugs, we will continue going to our conferences, we will continue playing our games, until we`re just shells, or until we come to a realization that we need to get off our pills.

listening to Marcy Playground - Sex and Candy

When we came back from Timothy something was different. Mark had been blown away by the Holy Spirit and when he came back it carried into his life and it was powerful, Aaron and Sam were also given direction and the teaching from Timothy and the refilling of the Holy Spirit had a huge impact on their lives when they came back. I was also blown away, and when I came back there were things that changed, big things, but there are things that stayed the same. It reminds me of being in New York and walking to the middle of Times Square and turning around and feeling like the world was rushing all around me and I was perfectly still, a blur of motion all around me. I feel like I`ve stopped moving in one direction, but I`ve stopped moving and I need to start moving again, I need to start moving in the right direction. Oftentimes we can be doing nothing wrong and be doing nothing. I want to do something. I want to change something, burn something, build something.

fool sitting here typing

Ode to a Friend

2008-05-31T12:21:00.006-07:00

There are places I cannot visit anymore
Without you
There are places I can only visit alone
An empty hole beside me
There are thoughts I find it hard to resurrect
There are things I cannot do

There's a place in the city we frequented
Sandstone blocks and pizza dirt
Burned brick building and the arena of words
A music house always changing
It's form in flux with all contained
It's hard for me to go there
Without you

There's an album I can't buy
Maybe for the best
It was your favorite once upon a time
Adorned with Rosa or Delilah I can't tell
But you were convinced of Rosa for a reason
I will never find out why
Without you

Without you
There's something missing
The sidewalk's harder
The city sounds are dissonant
There's blood in the alley
There's cursing on the beggars tongue
Without you
I can't be here anymore

Pipe Smoking Professor

Stormbreak

2008-04-28T18:11:00.002-07:00

The turning point was the erasure of memory, all that followed will not be forgotten. Like a diamond drill cutting deep in the subconcious, not tipped, but in fullness, not denying but embracing, not seeing nor understanding nor doubting the presence of God.
In the air is a water, a flood, tangible and intangible, cleansing and breaking in thunderous appellation. A mist not mystical nor mystifying, but real as the air in which it resides. And sat in a mountaintop or a valley the feeling is the same, of isolation, of camaraderie, of waiting and of consumation. We sit it out, some plan their escape, others revel in it, but all sense it. We're blindsided, we come to a halt. It's been hanging on the very air for some time, but none of us really saw it coming. The weight of the day has decended. Though we stoop to pick it up, it has dissipated. We have lived in tension without knowing it, and all of us came here for the same reason. We were waiting to wait, both knowing it and not knowing it in the same breath, but we all feel it.

Soundmime

Subject Matter

2008-04-22T18:58:00.002-07:00

Listening to Zombie by The Cranberries

My right hand is in shreds right now because I was sofitting. It's not even funny. I figure I have about 1,200 cuts on my thumb and the first two fingers alone. in fact those are the only three fingers that really have a good amount of cuts, but I must have lost about a gallon of blood between them. Really there are so many that you can't even distinguish between the different cuts, it all blends together into one big wide cut. It's actually pretty cool, pretty savage.

Listening to I`m Blue by Eiffel 65

I`ve been looking for a typewriter for a long time now because when I use my computer to type I always get distracted and end up playing just one game of star wars battlefront II or doing a dozen other things other than what I started out to do, type. I figure that if I can find a typewriter then I can find myself an isolated place and I`ll be able to actually get some stuff down. Also I figure that the quality of work goes up when you do it on a typewriter because there`s no backspace key (if you get an old enough typewriter). Coincidentally the typewriter that I just found the other day is old enough. Now all I have to do is pick it up before 5:00 tommorow (and buy it (for more than I would have wanted to)) and I`ll be in the clear.

Listening to Suzanne by Leonard Cohen

I still haven't decided what I'm going to do in the fall. I've given it a lot of thought and I've prayed about it, but I haven't got an answer and I haven't been thinking of it much lately. It feels like I thought about it so much and tried so hard to decide and prayed so much about it that I'm tired of it and the very idea of thinking about it just feels like a lot of work now. My original plan was to go to Kwantlen because going to TWU would be too expensive to do on my own without loans, but then I was talking to Dad about it and he said he would make up the difference between Kwantlen and Trinity if I went to Trinity. So now I don't know what to choose. Trinity is a good university and it's a christian university and I know a lot of people there, but if I'm not paying for it myself and there are always strings attached when someone else is paying for you, I like my independence, sometimes I think too much. Kwantlen isn't a christian university, but it is a reasonably good university and it's only fifteen minutes down the road from Trinity so I wont miss my old friends and I'll have an opportunity to meet many more, but the biggest difference is that if I go to Kwantlen I can probably pay for it myself without loans. Is it about independence or just pride, or even simply freedom. I pretty much have to pray about it. I'd also appreciate any prayers from anybody, because that would just be way cool.

fool sitting here typing

X-tra Cab

2008-04-12T16:55:00.003-07:00

Here, in all it's beater awesomeness is my Toyota X-tra Cab.

I got out of bed sometime in the afternoon so I'm still pretty insanely scruffy looking (along with the fact that I have a bunch of polycoat in my hair, which makes it do strange things). It's pretty solid up here and amazingly warm out today so I think I'm going to take a walk. I still need to get the truck insured, but I've been learning standard on it so driving it around a bit anyways.

Park Ranger

pulp non-fiction

2008-04-09T17:53:00.003-07:00

listening to paper planes by MIA

I just woke from a drooling nap episode. I woke up when the light was turned off by Amy. I guess I just fell asleep on my bed because i was so tired, which doesn't make sense because we only had a half day of work today. Just before I crashed I was reading Douglas Adams' Long Dark Teatime of the Soul, the sequel to Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. I think that's what put me to sleep. Not because the book wasn't great, because it's a really great book, but because it was a book. I never used to have this problem, I was a voracious reader, but soon after I left university to take a year off I found that I was unable to read for more than a few minutes without becoming extremely drowsy. I've still managed to push my way through some great books, but it has become increasingly difficult to do so. Partially I blame this on the fact that during university I read books because I had to and I generally read them extremely late at night. I figure that whenever I pick up a book now, my subconcious automatically associates that with sleeping. The only other explanation is that the pages of books contain a powerful aphrodisiac, our reaction to it being latent at birth but activated through a complicated series of events. Before I was reading I watched the movie Ella Enchanted with Anne Hathaway, a really odd film that didn't make a lot of sense and aped a lot of other more successful and overall better films, but had a decent premise and actually came out alright in the end (not in the sense that it had a happy ending because all fairy tales but Pan's Labyrinth have happy endings (though Pan's Labyrinth had one of the best and most beautiful endings ever... period.), but that it actually had a decent climax and wizard of Oz like twist that made you think... a bit.. for a few seconds...). The reason I was lounging about and doing leisure activities in the middle of the day was that we only had a half day of work today, just some loose ends that needed tying up. We finished around noon. in the intervening time I got a truck.

Zen Master

Pope and Kepsie: page 1

2008-04-02T19:01:00.002-07:00

Here's the crappily drawn first page of Pope and Kepsie. I think I like it overall, even considering the ms paint mix and match graphics. Enjoy.

Pipe Smoking Professor

real and virtual adventures

2008-03-17T21:17:00.003-07:00

The other day I stumbled upon what might just be the greatest browser based game ever made: Off-Road Velociraptor Safari...

(Space of about an hour where I play Off-Road Velociraptor Safari and finally achieve my 1000th velociraptor kill (over the last couple of days))

...I became heavily addicted to the game the other day and could not pull myself away from it. the basic premise of the game is that you drive your jeep around killing velociraptors and doing ridiculously awesome stunts... I know... You actually get points for doing awesome things like totally thrashing your jeep, getting killer velociraptor airtime, and jump killing velociraptors from extreme distances.
Anyways, as awesome as it was, I finally tore myself away from the game at about 3:00 in the morning on Saturday and then got up at an indecent hour to go canoeing. definately worth getting up for. We canoed down a 14?km section of the Kettle river (way past big white coming from Kelowna). at first it was pretty lame because the river was pretty shallow and we had to get out into the freezing cold river to push it through some parts. eventually, however, it picked up and then joined with the West Kettle River and got really rolling. A ways later though we were trying to manouver the canoe through a rapidish bit and the river channeled into this turn. we tried to manouver around it, but ended up broadsiding a log, the canoe filling with watter immediately and getting lodged underneath. It took us about 8 minutes alternately standing in the freezing cold water and standing on the ice, so we wouldn't get hypothermia or something, to get the thing out and miraculously we didn't lose anything but the bailer. We had to break out a fire on the shore because we were dead frozen and then we had to do it again an hour or so later down the river. The whole rest of the trip though, we were pretty much all shivering and it started raining and getting windy. it was simultaneously really miserable and a really awesome adventure, but we had chili at the Beukerts house when we got back to Kelowna so it was all good.

park ranger

In Limbo with Dylan

2008-03-05T22:02:00.004-08:00

Listening to - Maggie's Farm (Bob Dylan)

So I've been having myself a pity party, griping about how much it sucks working for Tim Hortons and about how crappy my manager is and so on and I was planning on finding a job in Kelowna and leaving, but then suddenly my manager is replaced by a really solid person who it would be great to work for and I'm caught flat-footed, it was like a slap in the face it was so quick and because my manager was the main reason why I was planning on leaving and now I don't have a great excuse to leave, but I still want to leave... I just can't think of a good enough reason. Maggie's Farm has pretty much been my anthem the last few days because it fit so well to my situation, but now the rules are changed and I really don't know what to do. I feel like Mr. Jones...

Listening to - Ballad of a Thin man (Bob Dylan)

I was thinking a while back about working at Tim Hortons and the fact that I was no longer being challenged in my work. For the first week it was challenging just learing the ropes and how things worked, but then I had pretty much mastered most of what I had to do and there was no room for expansion and then it just got boring because I wasn't learning and I wasn't being challenged, mentally or physically, I think the only way I was being challenged was learning how to deal with crappy people. In pretty much every job you will encounter and deal with crappy people, but when it is the only challenge in your job and when you have to take the crap they deal out without reacting (which I really have a hard time doing (case in point, losing it with my manager and telling her how crappy she was being)) then something's wrong with the whole situation. I want a job where A: I'm being challenged, and B: there's a healthy amount of respect going around. Tim Hortons, to date, hasn't really been that job at all. So we will see, if having a new manager changes the atmosphere and changes the way the job works, then I may just stick around, but most likely I will be gone by the end of the month... I am a rambler after all.

Park Ranger

die murmeltiere kommen

2008-02-29T16:56:00.003-08:00

Listening to Brother Iz - Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World

I hereby declare that winter has been defeated, Aslan is on the move, it's a rocket summer, die murmeltiere kommen. I got off of work today, changed, and walked straight out into this amazing beautiful sunny day with a warm breeze stirring the trees and blowing the last traces of winter away. As I walked back to Aarons house I glanced up at the once snow-covered Giants Head and was surprised to see only patches of snow, as if it was winters last stand and it was dying. Death dies inevitably. It was as if God was reminding us all of the resurection, a metaphor on a colossal scale. Then I walked into the bookstore to buy a comic before the bookstore closed and as I looked around, Brother Iz came on the radio with this medley and the storekeeper opened the door and the wild wind whipped leaves from the sunny street into the store and I stood there and took it in and after I bought my comic I walked back out and strolled down the street, holding my jacket in one hand because it was too hot out to wear it. What a wonderful world. (If you didn't get the rocket summer reference, go get Ray Bradbury's Martian Chronicles and read the first chapter)

fool sitting here typing

behind the scenes on the set of White Trash and Beardo

2008-02-25T20:56:00.005-08:00

I failed to finish the ballad of White Trash and Beardo, but rest assured it is currently underway. I've got this really old anthology of the works of Longfellow that I've had for a while, so I decided to start reading it. The first work is Evangaline, a ten page or so poem/prose (I'm really not sure what it would be classified as) about the Acadians. Anyways, it inspired me so I'm writing the ballad of White Trash and Beardo as an epic poem, but I'm still on only the third stanza because I don't have my computer down in the valley (not Happy Valley, the Farmhouse is on a hill). The first characters I'm introducing are the Ballcaps who live in Trashcan Village also known as RVland (there's no comma between Trashcan Village and RVland, it's all one name). Trashcan Village also known as RVland is inspired by the RV park that Sam and I pushed the Jetta into to find some jumper cables, but it's also inspired by the grunge of Penticton (in fact the Ballcaps are inspired by three people standing by the side of the road in Penticton that we laughed at when we were looking for black shirts for Sam's wedding). There is also a garbage can fire that's inspired mostly by our barrel fires out back of the Farmhouse. Essentially the entire epic will draw from my experiences with the white trash aspect the Okanagan, the main characters are even customers in the Summerland Tim Hortons. There, a pretty vague and uninteresting behind the scenes look at the ballad of White Trash and Beardo. Seriously though, if you could actually read it or understand the epic storyline, it would be way more interesting.

zen master

character study

2008-02-12T21:59:00.002-08:00

So I was listening to Bob Dylan's "Desolation Row" and I noticed the number of random characters thrown into the song that had crazy names like Cinderella, The Phantom of the Opera, and Cassanova. Then I started looking through some of his songs and I noticed that he almost always used pseudonames for the characters in his songs, so I got inspired and started writing up a list of characters that I've had on my mind. My list so far:
White trash
Beardo
Roosvelt
St. Matthew
Soundmime (from a bit of a lyric that I wrote)

This is definately a short blog, but that's all that was on my mind. Next post expect to see the ballad of White Trash and Beardo.

soundmime

memory flooding

2008-02-09T21:08:00.000-08:00

Last night I stayed up really late and listened to music and stuff. I started listening to the Beatles, Help, and that brought back a whole bunch of memories, some of my favorites and I just sat around and remembered certain times and places and people. At 2:00am I took a walk through the vinyard above the Mansion. There were no stars because it was clouded over, but because Summerland is mostly a retirement community so there's not a lot of lights and because of our location on the other side of Giants Head on the top of a hill, I could see the whole valley stretched out and the glow off of the surrounding towns lighting up the sky in places, it was pretty breathtaking. Also it was completely silent, no cars screeching, no train, not even the rumble of a highway or the sound of the wind. It was completely silent and I stood in the middle of the vineyard and was just quiet and just stood there, until I could hear the residue from all the sounds in my ears buzzing until it was deafening. It was beautiful. Then I walked over the hill in the vineyard and sat on the road at the base of Giants head and wrote the first verse and the chorus of a song about this one time when I walked on a frozen pond in the dark with some great people, one of my favorite memories of all time. Top 5 definately. Then I walked back and jammed with the night on my harmonica and found this two-note progression that I found on a train this one time and it brought back even more memories. I was recalling moments and people all night it seemed, every little thing I'd do would trigger a new train of them and even though I was living in the moment I was awash with memories. I think I want to go back to the Lower Mainland or move into Kelowna because no matter where you are and what you're doing, no matter how beautiful nature is, no matter how quiet, no matter how majestic, it doesn't matter if you don't have anyone to share it with. I've been wondering what I'm doing up here and I've started thinking of this stage of my life as my time in the wilderness, kindof a formative period where I figure out who I am and what I'm going to do with my life, but I can't wait to see everybody again because I miss you all desperately.

soundmime

The Glow off Giants Head

2008-01-31T19:46:00.000-08:00

Hitchhiking is a truly beautiful thing. This past couple of weeks I've done a whole lot of it because I don't have a car up here, but I have to say that I haven't once not been picked up. I wouldn't so much reccomend it down in the city though. Up here there's a great small-town-feel (kindof like new car smell) where most people are pretty friendly and it's also pretty safe so you don't have to lock your doors on your house or car or anything. Also it's pretty safe for hitchhikers and for people picking up hitchhikers... which is the way it should be because it is quickly becoming a lost art. The other day an awesome burnt out old hippy dude picked me up. he was totally white bearded and white pony-tailed and had his two dogs, Peanut Butter and something else in the back of his car, a great experience. You meet interesting people when you hitchhike. Actually, come to think of it, you meet interesting people anytime you choose to open yourself up and put yourself in a position of vulnerability. I guess that's pretty much me though, I wear my heart on my sleeve for perfect strangers, but it's hard for me to open up to people know. Wow... self discovery in a public forum... that was profound. Whatever, here's The Ballad of Miss Weatherby (she sang it in my dream (not the exact words (except the I was a Canadian and I was dying bit)) when she was on a riverboat (the story's the story from my dream)).

I was a Canadian
I was a Canadian
and I was dying

I came down from the mountain
to the valley of the shadow
where I made my home
but I really should have known
I really should have known

I was a Canadian
I was a Canadian
and I was dying

In time I taught their children
about the mountain and the sky
thought they understood
now I think I was just blind

I was a Canadian
I was a Canadian
and I was dying

In the night the cloud came down
while everybody turned their eyes
and my blood was shed
on their sacrificial knives

I was a Canadian
I was a Canadian
and I was dying

now I'm on a riverboat
and I'm telling you my story
and a bird sings hallelujah
so I couldn't say I'm sorry

Zen Master

3 Haiku

2008-01-15T10:14:00.000-08:00

3 deep and meaningful haiku I wrote in Tim Hortons yesterday morning. Haiku is a beautiful way of expressing oneself and does a lot for your writing/poetry skills. All these ones are pretty intricately linked and should be read together, though I'm sure they could be read seperately as well. Trust me, they actually make sense in context. Unfortunately I'm not going to give you the context until you take a good guess at what they mean because then I can laugh at you. "you" being whoever the crap reads this. I could get into a rant about the nature of blogs, bloggers, and anonymous readers, but I gotta go so I won't.

bitter morning air
cold, wet pavement to walk on
it's good to be here

snake trail water line
whispers in the tree branches
whitetail on the move

smiling down at me
fifteen perfect people frown
am I one of them

pipe smoking professor

The House on Happy Valley

2008-01-14T16:30:00.000-08:00

So I was going to upload this filmed tour of The House on Happy Valley (an obscure reference to classic radio-drama (I am a nerd)), but then Aarons computer doesn't accept my SD card and I don't have a cord for my camera. A typed tour will have to suffice. Our fictional character, discovering this house for the first time, will be Greg.
Greg walks up steps and enters through front screen door. He takes off his shoes in the ante-chamber (whatever that thing is called) and enters through the duct tape sealed second front door. A toasty warm house greets him because Sam has been busy making a blazing fire in the wood furnace. Crossing to the fridge Greg opens it to find there is very little in it, Greg is dissapointed. There isn't even any decent snack food in the cupboards because it doesn't last very long in this house. Moving past the Bob bar and into the living room, Greg notices the stark lack of furniture in the house. This is because Sam and Will recently moved most of the awesome stuff into the basement. All that's left is a pair of couches and a pretty decent lying-on carpet (a carpet for lying on and spacing out). He takes a quick glance into the far room, observing how tidy it is and then makes his way into the three-pronged hallway/open space. The first door to the left contains emptiness and a desk in the corner, cluttered with papers and a laptop, this room is evidently Sam's office/The Theater (hence the laptop). Moving on, Greg steps into the poorly lit bathroom, but upon noticing the awesomeness of the medivel light fixtures, he changes his mind and decides it is well lit. The next room, it appears, has been ransacked, with papers and books lying everywhere, boxes full of clothes and assorted crap taking up at least half of the room, an unmade bed, a pile of dirty laundry a computer and acessories sitting on boxes in the corner with the closet. Also the chair is broken and wont hold you up unless you sit at the back of it. It's pretty craptacular. Moving out of the hallway, Greg encounters a random door and decides to open it. It's dark inside so he hits the lightswitch and to his surprise his path is outlined in an unearthly green light. Taking the set of stairs downwards he encounters a weird yellowish light and an awesome red one as he emerges into the basement. Sitting on a shelf is a wierd pulsing lava lamp, nearly hypnotising Greg. Fortunately he pulls away at the last second and moves on into the next room, switching on the light to reveal a foosball table in thge center of the room, flanked by a record player with piles of records and a sound system on one side and a skukum electric guitar and amp on the other side (which Will bought for $120 from Classic Guitars in Penticton (it's an epic tale)).
That's pretty much the whole house and I have to go because we're heading off to the Blind Angler for dinner in Peachland. Miss you guys.
Will

Memory Burning

2007-12-29T16:51:00.000-08:00

So, being as I'm moving to Summerland, i was packing up my stuff today and i came across a bunch of birthday/Christmas/graduation cards that I'm pretty sure lasted all the way back to when I learned to read. I was going to keep them because I had kept them thus far and there really wasn't much of a point in throwing them away now, but then they wouldn't fit in the box that I had for them so had to dispose of them somehow. Throwing away just wouldn't quite cut it so I decided to burn them. The following are the mundane events that transpired. Also it's my first attempt at vlogging

The whole thing lasted a lot longer than I thought and eventually I kept having to splash gasoline on it because it was raining. In the end it left a big scorched patch on the lawn, but I covered it in leaves and although I smell of gasoline right now, I'm pretty sure my parents wont notice... except for the fact that I posted it online... oh well...

Park Ranger

Pope and Kepsie

2007-12-20T19:06:00.000-08:00

So I've got this great idea for a webcomic that I'm going to make: Pope and Kepsie. I definitely have to credit the excellent name to Alpha and her word-mixing-up skills, but the idea for the comic is mine. It's set in a post-apocalyptic future where the Vatican city is the last bastion of freedom withstanding the siege of a world government of some type. Pope is a refugee who helps defend the city and its inhabitants, and Kepsie is his dog. it's going to be epic. Now all I have to do is learn to draw... oh shnapp...

zen master

starting again and changing my ways

2007-12-11T22:51:00.000-08:00

I slept in mad late for work this morning so I told myself I'd get to bed by 11 tonight. Meaning I'll only have a couple minutes to blog left. Today, because I took the day off (accidentally) I spent most of the day laying around, but at about 3:30 I went up and did some Christmas shopping and didn't buy any Christmas presents and then went over to the bread garden and had a double shot espresso and read my Bible and settled down to the filling of the epic notebook/sketchbook I have recently acquired. So far it's pretty rough around the edges (it always is when I don't write or sketch for a while), but I suppose I might transcribe some awesomeness. Here's a rough rap verse that could be put with another verse I have in the book.

like a drop on a leaky faucet I lost it builds up too soon here's the line and I crossed it I was stalling for time forsaking the rhyme no rythm or timing it stopped my climbing no progress but regress if this is test then I just failed but the worst bit about it is I just bailed mailed out my resignation from this race digital eyes taking its place but if there's time left for me to retrace I'm starting again I'm changing my ways

It's not in a good format and there's a word misspelled among other problems, but I'll fix that as soon as I can (thus making this sentence irrelevant)

pipe smoking professor

BfME2

2007-12-09T14:35:00.000-08:00

So I never wrote anything the other night. It sucks, I know. Last night was pretty bad too, when I went into my room in the evening I was determined that i was going to shut down my computer and spend my time writing, but when I turned on my computer I realized that I was halfway through an epic Battle for Middle Earth II campaign so I pretty much had to finish it. Unfortunately finishing it took me well through the night and into the morning and I only got a couple of hours of sleep and no writing done. I will though. It's going to happen.

fool sitting here typing

sufficient awesomeness

2007-12-05T20:28:00.000-08:00

We got an awesome tree this year, probably the best yet. We went up to Aunt Leah's Tree Farm, a charity tree farm, and bought a noble Douglas fir for eighty something dollars. It's insanely full and rich (and expensive), but I don't feel bad one bit about having such a costly tree in my house, purely for our enjoyment/amusement because the money is going to a great charity (Aunt Leah's works with mostly troubled youth, halfway homes, and unwanted pregnancies). I really feel like I should write something now. it's been a few days since i last wrote anything and i feel "ripe" to write. I feel like a drop of water that's been building on a slightly leaky tap for a long time and it's been swelling to the point where it can't stay on the tap and it'll fall in another second. I definitely will write whatever it is that i need to write tonight and I may post it on here if it is sufficiently awesome. speaking of awesomeness, I just thought of a great word... awesomeless... which is like the opposite of awesomeness in every way, lacking in awesomeness I guess.

pipe smoking professor

folk-rap awesomeness

2007-12-02T16:33:00.000-08:00

Right now I am rocking out to the awesomely talented Josh Garrels. We went to the "Spirit of Christmas" at TWU and he was playing a live set in the Atrium and he definitely outclassed the Western Fiddlers who played before him. In fact he pretty much not only destroyed them, but he also blew minds, mine included. The man is a mix of folk music and folk rap, which is awesome. Last year when I got my first K-os album I became fascinated by the concept of melodic rap and especially folk rap (artists like Matt Kearney), but then that kind of faded out of view until the other night when I heard Josh Garrels and the man is pretty much the embodiment of the folk-rap genre. go check him out and prepare to have your mind blown. Also check out the folk-rap genre because although it is madly underrepresented, it is one of the hardcore sweetest genres out there. because folk music rocks, and melodic rap rocks, and together they rock madly.

zen master

The Park Ranger Strikes Back

2007-11-29T07:55:00.000-08:00

The other day I realized that I say the word 'epic' much too much so I went to thesaurus.com and looked up some synonyms. I think the best results I could find were 'Homeric' and 'Herculean' so from now on I will replace 'epic' with one or the other, depending on the situation. This will be an exercise in broadening my vocabulary because words or phrases like 'epic' tend to temporarily take over everything I say.
I actually looked the word up when I was down in Bellingham last week for American Thanksgiving. I went down with Josh Burdick and a whole crew of people (Jenny, Toshi, Jackie, Anne, Justin, Phil) going to his house for the dinner and the shopping. Americans are hardcore about celebrating thanksgiving and a Homeric weekend was had by all. The morning after the herculean dinner, however, I spotted an ancient typewriter in the Burdick house and Mrs. Burdick grabbed a piece of paper and said I could type on it. It was definitely a pretty Homeric experience and the following is the awesomecore poetry of the morning that I typed out.

beeswax daytime wakes me from my repose
while sunlight filters through the window frame
it's no surprise the nighttime went so fast
so soft the daylight came so soon
I've not yet woken from my moonlit dream

I dreamt a golden tear was falling from his face
while all around the ocean waves kept pace
with the beating of my own familiar heart
and though it captivated in me every part
I could not hold it from the break of day
I woke to golden tears in place of sunlit rays

and all around me happiness is in my ear
the sight of day has brought my heart to tears
the birdsong, the dog bark, the beeswax daytime
the clear sky, the warm hearts beating next to mine

Later in the morning I wrote more awesomecore (I can't use Homeric or herculean in this situation, although I would have used epic) poetry on a scrap of paper and the day before I was writing a sweetness punk song so I have been pretty busy, but my basic routine doesn't really encourage time for writing. Basically I get up and go to work, work for eight hours, and come home and entertain myself with movies and games. I feel like I'm amusing myself to death. The only real time when I get anything done is right now, in the morning before i leave for work, but usually I work at the Victoria Drive location of Surplus Sam's so that doesn't leave me much time. Hopefully I'll be working at the Burnaby location for a while and I can write a sweet series of morning poems. That would be Homeric.

Park Ranger

A New Smoke

2007-11-20T22:25:00.000-08:00

I got a great new book today, it's a comprehensive collection of Robert Frost's poetry. So far I've only read the first two poems, but he starts off with crazy crazy awesomeness. Although Robert Frost is the man, I would also like to get hold of some of T.S. Elliot's poetry because I read "The Hollow Men" ages ago and it's pretty much my favorite poem ever, but I've never read anything else by Elliot.
On the epic journey i missed out on Michigan and Detroit and I was sorely disappointed by this. However, everyone says that I missed nothing, that Detroit is the worst city in America, but they don't realize that out of the worst conditions comes the best poetry and music. I think that's why, when musicians get famous and make a lot of money, their music tends to lose much of its awesomeness. It's because now they are living the good life and they have nothing to sing about except how happy and boring their lives are. The poetry of T.S. Elliot and Robert Frost is not about how happy and boring their lives are. It is good poetry. I look forward with eager anticipation to reading them both.

Pipe Smoking Professor

The Return of the Pipe Smoking Professor

2007-11-17T14:03:00.000-08:00

I am definitely back in Canada now and it's good to be sleeping in a real bed and eating real food, my last meal before coming home on Tuesday was a can of "Chef Boyardee ChiliMac". Trust me, Chef Boyardee is good, chili is good, and macaroni is good, but together and cold they taste pretty disgusting. Sorry for not updating for the past couple of weeks, for the las two weeks of my trip I didn't stay in any hostels because I was rushing around so much on the train so I didn't have ready access to the internet. The only times I stayed overnight in a city in the last two weeks were Sacramento and Kansas city and I just stayed up all night. Sacramento was pretty good, but at about 3:00am at Denny's I realized I had lost my ticket and pass and had to run back through the city and retrace my steps. Eventually I ended up at the train station around when it opened and one of the employees had found the ticket and given it to the ticket counter people where I found it. I did write an epic song about Sacramento though, but it's really epic and therefore would take a while to type out so I'm not putting it on here. Kansas city was the least welcoming place on my travels, I just don't think people liked other people there, it was like the antithesis to Halifax. Also there was at least one bumbling security guard who made my life miserable, another who was doing his job, his job being keeping people out of a public park, a criminal purse thief, a 24 hour bail bonds place, a burning sewer vent, many many drunk people, a non-24-hour Denny's, a homeless man, another homeless man, music screamed in the middle of the night, chunks of ice for toes, the book of Lamentations, and an epic journey. The epic journey was the journey from Missouri to Kansas. Kansas city falls on the state line between Missouri and Kansas and unfortunately the train stops in the Missouri half of the city. I had to make it to Kansas so I had about 3 or 4 miles to trek across the city to get to Kansas proper. It was an epic journey and I documented it on film, but I want to get this entry out there so I will put the videos in another entry. Later on in the non-24hr Denny's I documented the results of my entire epic journey (the whole thing) in a poem:

It's been so long, been on the road
cause Kansas winds were in my bones
I've searched the high and Northern shores
I've stood and knocked at strangers doors
I've walked alone on broken streets
I've nursed my cold and broken feet
I've drunk my fill on golden draughts
but never once i have forgot
the sacred song, the silent night
the ancient dream, eternal sight
the yellow sun on Kansas fields
the great expanse, the boundful yields
for this I've searched for countless years
for every mile, another tear
but now it seems they're shed in vain
as darkened skies turn into rain
this is Kansas
a streetcorner
this is Kansas
a neon sign
this is Kansas
a black mourner
this is Kansas
a yellow line
this is Kansas
a chainlink fence
this is Kansas
a dying dance
if this is Kansas
why does it look like the Kingdom of God?

That last line is an epic line for its multiple awesome meanings and although I don't really like explaining my poetry, I feel this line could easily be twisted so I will clarify its meaning. It refers to both the fact that I am sorely disappointed in the real Kansas (it was not what I expected), and the fact that the Kingdom of God is at hand and these streets and these broken and dying people in this broken and dying city are what the Kingdom of God is made up of and because of this I'm not really disappointed, but happy. The Kingdom of God isn't made up of rolling hills and fields of golden wheat, but out of broken and hurting people who have nothing to give, least of all beauty. It's a pretty epic realization.

2007-10-28T16:58:00.000-07:00

So if i uploaded any of the other videos it would take hours because they're so big and the internet costs money so i don't think I will, but when I get home I'll put them up. For the time being, here's some photos.

The Plains of Abraham

Fields of corn in the U.S. (I don't know why, but it warranted a picture)

a little piece of New York early in the morning when it was deserted

another little piece of New York

A much bigger piece of New York taken from central park

Anyways that's it for now because those things take time to upload, and again time is money. I miss you guys. That was a pretty nondescript 'I miss you' so that it doesn't offend the people that I haven't even thought about since I left and I don't really miss so I guess nobody can really know if I miss them at all. C'est la vie.

New York, New York

2007-10-28T16:05:00.000-07:00

Every time I say that, 'New York, New York', it definately makes me feel pretty groovy. New York, New York is both an awesome and cool place, and a very sad place. When I arrived on Friday (I missed my train on Thursday) it was late at night and it was pouring rain when I walked out of the station and my first thought was 'oh crap it's raining'. the handle on my umbrella had broken off up in Montreal so I was holding on to this little stick and trying to keep my backpack dry because all my books and important things were in the top, so this meant that I got soaked, but I got used to the rain after a while and it really didn't end up being too bad, it added atmosphere to the city (although I'm still glad that it's sunny right now). Right across the station was madison square garden so I snapped a picture of that and started out into the city with no idea where I was going and no maps or even an adress or number for a hostel. I should have gotten a map at least from the train station, but I didn't think of it and before I knew it I was on the street and walking. My first instinct was to head toward the place where all the excitement and people were coming from so pretty soon I hit broadway and then turned along that and walked for a couple of blocks and then, sensing that it was nearby, I asked someone where times square was. They informed me that I was in it and I was a bit confused for a minute because I though squares had to be these big open spaces, but then as I walked onto the median in the middle of the street, the whole place sort of expanded around me, until when I was standing on the subway grate in the middle, with an almost musical sound coming up from the underground and all the taxis and people yelling and honking and the hundreds of flashing lights and big screens blurring my vision and me spinning inside it all, it felt like it was the center of the world and the world was spinning around the ground where I stood, it was truly a magnificant feeling. Evidently, however, New Yorkers also think that New York is the center of the world and sometimes it can be hilarious to see people walking down the street who obviously think 'I'm all that' and how visible, without saying a word to them but just in their fashions and the way they walk, their conceit is. it gives it a pretty cool feeling though. the sad side of New York came later in the night. I had decided that since it was so late and all I knew about where I was, was that I was in times square, I wasn't gonig to look around for a hostel too far from the square, but instead I was going to stay up all night and wander around in the close area. So I pretty much explored every corner of times square and though they say that the city never sleeps, there was a time from around 3 to 5 in the morning where there were very few people on the street. However, at this time of night you could walk down Broadway and on every streetcorner there would be a pusher trying to sell you drugs and depending which street you walked down, there could be half a dozen guys walking down the street with a hooker. It was definately a sad city at that time and not a very safe place, even though the city has being swarming with police since Bloomberg I'm told, but fortunately there were a few 24/7 mcdonalds and starbucks in the direct vicinity of times square so I spent a good percentage of my time in those (or standing under the big overhanging broadway theater signs because it rained the whole time). I made it through the night, but I was really tired the next day and didn't do a whole lot except for walk from times square to Amsterdam and 103rd st. (trust me it's a long way, especially with a backpack in the semi-rain) and check into the hostelling international hostel there. today I didn't do a whole lot either, but I went to church this morning (at about noon) and met a bunch of cool people and went for lunch with them, so that was pretty good I guess. right now I only have about a minute and a half left on my internet time so I'm going to have to wrap up, but I took a bunch of videos in New York and I'm going to see if I can find somewhere to upload those.

the happiness parade

2007-10-24T08:28:00.000-07:00

So pretty much the legal drinking age in Quebec city is 18. So I definitely went to the pub down the street last night and got drunk. Not totally drunk, just swaying and slight blurring and a bit of lack of the ability to talk very well. So yeah I guess you would classify that as drunk, but not drunk so that I don't remember stuff. I definitely did chronicle the entire experience though so that might have been what kept me remembering everything. there's a few pages of just random writings in my journal, that examined in the light of day are pretty funny, if a little hard to translate because my writing is already bad, but with alcohol in me it's atrocious. Also, one of the reasons I got drunk is because I wanted to see if I could still write when drunk, and how exactly that affects what I write. so here's a song I wrote when I only had 1-1.5 out of 2 pints in me.

The Happiness Parade

Welcome one and all
the tightrope walker tries to say
while jerking back the tears of laughter
clowns in caricture of the queen
will entertain you for a penny
paupers, princes all the same
and if we fail to put a smile upon your face
we'll give you cotton candy entertaaaiinment
for to say

(chorus)
welcome to the happiness parade
monkeys elephants and trains
pulling into town the big band plays
the circus master flips a magic switch
and all throughout the day it never rains
it's the happiness parade

welcome one and all
to the last show of the day
there's tears aplenty if you miss it
but windmills, all the whirligigs
and the wonderful month of May
will bring you smiles all the same
and if nothing in this world can cheer you up
we'll spell you all the numbers backward, it's a gaaame see
for to say

chorus

and if the monkeys start to riot
at the mayors house we'll pay
for we're so full of glee and happiness
that any bill we're glad to foot
but to the animals we'll say
go back and bring the lion train
for if I put my head into the lions mouth
we'll earn a killing just by plaaaying
at a game

chorus

welcome one and all
to virtual reality
it's magic tricks and pick up sticks
and no one here's to blame
and no one in the town they say
and no one at the fair today
if all the children die of laughter
it's smiles killing currents of the braaaiinwaves
for to say

chorus

when the children fall
we'll gather up the people now
dancing cucaracha down the street
and hurling colored bricks through windows
we'll send them to the bars and pray
that when the day is done they'll say
"Oh happiness! Oh happiness! It is enough."
all sadness turns to gaaaiity
in this game

chorus

So it's definitely a pretty confusing a sad song, not really happy at all. Alcohol is not a happy thing and cannot make you happy. Overall I'm not sure if it was worth it, but I won't do it again anyways so there's no need to worry. Anyways, I'm off to get a souvenir from this city and then catch my train.

Quebec

2007-10-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

So Quebec is officially an alright city in my books. the place is seriously packed with massive amounts of history and culture. This morning I arrived before sunrise and searched around the city for a place to watch the sun rise. the city was deadly quiet and there was absolutely no signs of life anywhere, I almost made it to the top of the main hill in the old city before I spotted somebody. I eventually settled on an awesome park overlooking the Saint Lawrence River (by the way, does anybody know who Saint Lawrence was? I'm curious, but don't want to do the hard work of looking it up). After the sun rose I went and had breakfast at a French restaurant called 'La Omellette' or something and then wandered the city streets. The citadel was cool I guess, but it didn't even come close to the Halifax citadel, which was pretty much awesome (but not, contrary to popular belief, impenetrable (as these blurry photos taken after closing from inside the citadel will demonstrate))

Seriously folks, I'm pretty sure the guard almost caught me... it was intense. I totally went to the Quebec parlaiment building today (which was awesome) and had a tour (which was awesome) and had lunch in the cafeteria (which was pretty good but I regret not pilfering a Quebec Parlaiment spoon) and scored a seat in question period (which was awesome even though I didn't understand a word of what was said (except for A B C, at one point, and Quebec and Quebequioua (I seriously don't know how to spell that word), in another), but I understood the basic system of parliamentary debate so that made it a lot more interesting (I still fell asleep)). I think I'm just going to put pictures of random things in here now because I can't top the wordy awesomeness of those brackets.

Quebec wall

me and the CN tower giftshop

Nuk Luk and the CN tower

Quebec parlaiment statues that look better in real life

train view in tunnel with rain

Edmonton

Halifax sunset and the next one is the view from the hotel in Toronto

Halifax

2007-10-21T13:21:00.000-07:00

hey y'all, I'm definately in Halifax right now at the hostel international and have had many many mad adventures up to this point. back in vancouver, right when I boarded the train I met three guys (Dan, Liam, and Adam) from Victoria doing exactly the same thing as me so we've done a lot stuff together over the past few days. When we got to Toronto (which was freakin huge) we went to the hostel to get some beds (we got in at 9:30) and the hostel lady was like "yah it's all full" and then when we asked if there were any other hostels in Toronto she's like "yah, they're all full.. I phoned them all... they're all full" and we're like "oh crap". Fortunately, however, one of the other passengers (Amy the fairmont employee from jasper) had offered her floor in the royal york? in the worst case scenario. So we phoned her and definately crashed on her floor, but first had a great night on the town. the adventures have been so awesome that here I am going to transcribe some from my journal.

Saturday: 6:45 pm
-I had a small stopover (1hr) in Montreal and am just pulling out of the rail complex. Tony and Dave are in the same car and a few of the other Vancouver to Toronto people as well. Right now I'm seated next to Pascal, the first bona fide Canadian Francophone from Quebec (I'm not sure how to spell that crazy word) I've ever met. Montreal was definately pretty cool and the people were a lot more friendly, it seemed, than in Toronto. Also there were loads of crazy old buildings and sweet statues all around. i will definately have to come back here for a longer time. I did almost get lost in the mall that the train lands in though. My first thought was that I wanted to see the city so I went to get out of the mall. Unfortunately all the signs were in French and it took me ages. Then on the way back in I got hopelessly lost and actually had to ask for directions. It was fun though and I still made it back to the train station on time. The announcer just announced they're playing Ice Age 2 so I'm gonna go check that out.

also here is a definately cool song I wrote one night on the train somewhere in the middle of Canada.

Let's come in from the rain
let's fold up all our umbrellas
and curl up warm in blankets from the train
and if you ask me why I'll say
it's such a sight
yah such a sight
for sore eyes

on through the night the train rolls
in it I rest, my long respite
with a kangaroo princess and Buffalo Bill
searching for diamonds in the sky
no diamonds there, but in our eyes
and I say what a sight
what a sight for sore eyes

sunlight's long gone, we're still here
just a dark room with candlelight
and a soft song playing in my ear
and an old man digging through the years
and I say what a sight
oh I say what a sight
for sore eyes

That's about now folks because I'm off to the Citadel Hill to watch a halifax sunset on the Atlantic ocean. miss you (sortof).

Jasper

2007-10-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

This is definately my first post since leaving, I've just stopped in Jasper and found an internet connection for 20 minutes. So far the train is pretty awesome. it's a lot slower than I thought and it took about 8 hours to get to Kamloops last night. I've met a lot of interesting people on the train because a lot of the people I'm going to be with until Toronto or even Halifax. I've taken a lot of photo's, but unfortunately I forgot to bring my usb cabnle with me into Jasper so I wont upload until probably Winnapeg. breakfast on the train was pretty decent and pretty decently priced at $6.50 for a decent plate. the sleeping was less than ideal, but you have a whole lot more room than on a bus and I'm told a whole lot more than airplanes, but I wouldn't know. also I was pleasantly surprised when the train dude person came by and gave everybody blankets and travel pillows for the duration (as well as one of those crazy sleep mask things which actually worked pretty decently last night). I'm not sure how much time I have before the train leaves so not much more. the trip is definately good for reading and writing and I'm keeping a fairly comprehensive journal that this blog pales in comparison to. it has many more details and some poetry and crazy concepts that I'm going to work off of (like the dreadlock princess or the man named butterfly) for some killer stories. anyways I must use the restrooms in this fine town. chill folks.
park ranger

Only October

2007-10-08T16:21:00.000-07:00

Only October

The suddenness of rain
awakes me from my afternoon
my heart and mind contained
I'll step into the water soon
it calls me by my name
I follow through the open door

so beautiful yet solitary
is this what it feels like to be alone

a bitter winter chill
coniferous and candy canes
the sidewalk holds me still
to watch the passing of the sun
and swallowing my guilt
I stand in shelter from the rain

so beautiful yet solitary
is this what it feels like to be alone

blinded by the square lights
enchanting and demanding me
I'll do the waltz tonight
then turn and dance the minaret
no longer seeing their eyes
I'm dancing now just to forget

so beautiful yet solitary
is this what it feels like to be alone