Sunday, July 27, 2003

Recently I've begun to feel a tad more self-conscious as I write my blog. I worry that perhaps my tangents are too disconnected and too verbose, that perhaps my prose is disintegrating into a realm, hitherto inhabited only by the semioticists and their post-modern brethren, that is best described as turgid and halting, that perhaps my sentences are becoming too long, that they run on and on and on and... .

Today has been a bit of an intellectual journey. I've begun reading "Theory of Film" by Siegfried Kracauer. I spent the better part of my mental effort painstainkingly navigating the introduction to the new edition (Princeton U Press, 1997); turgid and halting may have been hyperbole in reference to my own writing, but it fits the bill for Hansen's "framework for appreciating the signigicance of Film Theory for contemporary film theory". The structure is haphazard, the sentences awkwardly constructed, and, as if her deleterious effect on contempoary prose were not enough, her fanciful addition of morphemes is maddening. I was hopping mad many a time. You know that feeling, a sort jolly anger that has its wrath, but is ostensibly devoid of aggresion. The kind of anger where you make animal noises (I'm fond of the time honoured "gRrrrrrrr") and pound your fist with feigned aspirations of violence, as though the word "anthropocentric" were enough to warrant your curbing an academic whose face you've never seen, and voice you've never heard. Actually I worry that "antropocentric" really is a word (for the most part, wordness is bestowed by inclusion in the OED). Still, I don't like it. I'll gripe about one more of her morphetical constructions, if only because, in the not so humble opinion of Kitty (it was her idea) and Evan, the wrong morpheme was appended. Palimpsest is a perfectly good word with well established wordness. It however has yet to evolve into an adjectival form. My problem is not so much that Miss Hansen chose to hasten this process, simply that she selected "ic" as opposed to "ual". Say it now, "pal - imp - sest - ic". Now try "pal - imp - sest - ual". C'mon, how can you not prefer the latter ? Need I point out that it rhymes with incestual.

Now, having concluded with my necessary whining peregrinations, I'll return to what was my original purpose. Dissatisfied with my own thoughts, I sat down this evening with the intention of transcribing a few pithy observations for all of you. Odly enough, a great many of them come from the aforementioned heinous prosodist, who, to tell it truthfully, has moments of eloquent luminosity peppered throughout her burdensome opus.

"Photographic representation has the perplexing ability not only to resemble the world it depicts but also to render it strange, to destroy habitual fictions of self-identity and familiarity." - Hansen, p.xxv, intro to "Theory of Film"

"Kracauer's insistence on indeterminacy should not be understood as a romantic defense of the irrational nor as an abdication of principles of coherence and intelligibility. What is at stake is the possibility of a "split-second meaninglessness," as the placeholder of an otherness that resists unequivocal understanding and total sumbsumption. What is also at stake is the ability of the particular, the detail, the incident, to take on a life of its own, to precipitate processes in the viewer that may not be entirely controlled by the film. These twin concerns are at the core of Kracauer's critique of the hegemony of the narrative, as of the hegemony of dialogue and vocality in the realm of sound - that is, his critique of any attempt to subordinate the material, sensory qualities of film to a tight and a priori discursive structure." p.xxi, Ibid.

"Why indeed should one say everything at the same time" p.xlviii, Kracauer

Explaining his preference for the first films of a particular style or genre Kracauer says that he prefers "to stick to the prototypes which, more vividly than all that follows, still vibrate with intentions engendering them." p.xlviii, Ibid.

"It is two different things to espouse an idea and to realize, let alone endorse, all that is implied by it." p.xlix, Ibid.

"A great idea is like a phantom ocean beating upon the shores of human life in successive waves of specialization" Whitehead quoted by Kracauer.

Well, that's about it for the evening. If anyone has any thoughts, please send them along.

Goodnight

Saturday, July 26, 2003

It always seems that fantastic tales with which to regale all of you occur to me when I'm doing something else. Not now, when I'm actually seated in front of my computer. Today the ideas came when I was meditating. That's usually the way, I think up all kinds of great ideas while I'm not supposed to be thinking.

I've been meditating semi-regularly recently. About five days a week. I'm going on one week now. Actually, I hope to start doing two sessions a day, perhaps tomorrow.

Kitty and I watched Heat a few nights ago. A great movie. For those of you who don't know, "Heat" is an epic action/heist movie with significant character development (for an action/heist movie). As always, the best scene, and in some respects the climax of the movie, was the conversation between Al Pacino (the cop) and Robert Deniro (the criminal mastermind). If you haven't seen the movie, you won't understand what I'm talking about; I don't plan on explaining as I think it's best discovered in the course of the movie. I do however have some complaints. In many ways, the screenplay for "Heat" was very well written. There are some great pieces of writing.
[!!!! if you haven't seen the movie, stop reading till you see three happy faces. !!!] There are also some big mistakes. Get rid of the daughter. At the point when she tries to commit suicide we still don't care enough about her for the scene to not be distracting and annoying. Also, Pacino's wife's lines are horribly written. Finally, my other complaint, DeNiro's character (the criminal mastermind) is not one to go back and settle a score with some 2bit thug at his future's peril. Still though, an eminently enjoyable movie, even after the third viewing.

:) :) :)

There is more to say, but my eyelids....oh yeah GOD DAMN FUCKING COMPUTER! I had to send my iBook into Apple yesterday. Looks like my logic board needs to be replaced. It is apparently a somewhat common problem. Apple, however, has thus far been very helpful and expedient. At this point, I'm not that peeved.

Good night.

Saturday, July 19, 2003

I was remiss not to mention this in the previous post: Thanks to all of you who read this. Actually I somehow feel odd thanking people for reading what is in essence a journal, albeit an intentionally public one. Part of me tries to avoid those sort of egoistic aspirations. But, that said, I do appreciate all of you. A great big hello to Mr. Jericho, Dr. SARS and his Italian girlfriend, the Lobster man, the People's locksmith, the lovelorn lovers (there's two of you, you're in different cities, and the one closest to me isn't lovelorn anymore), my mental guitar chord library friend, and my Mrs. Pants. Hopefully no one has been left out, if so, it is not because I do not care, it is only because I have had far too much to drink.

"I leave when the pub closes"
Ok smartie, go to a party
Girls are dancin the crowd is showin body
A chick walks by you wish you could sex her
But you're standin on the wall like you was Poindexter
Next days function, high class luncheon
Food is served and you're stone cold munchin'
Music comes on, people start to dance
But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants
A girl starts walkin, guys start gawkin'
Sits down next to you and starts talkin'
Says she wanna dance cus she likes the groove
So come on fatso and just bust a move

It's now been over ten days since the last entry and I thought I’d start us off with a little Young MC. What have I been doing? Well most, if not all, of you know I spent the last nine days in Vancouver. It all started with a desire to get down and boogie. Kitty and I slaved for hour after hour, striving to lay down the perfect dance mix (you might ask, as my Torontonian friend did, "don't you have a job?"). After much griping, the mix was made and we set off for Vancouver. Its test run, on the drive up, proved that a few not so boogeying tracks slipped through the cracks. But all was not lost. As I made the drive to Vancouver I repeatedly grooved out (I’ll take some flagellation for that one) to “Bust a Move”, so much in fact, that it began to appear to me as a prophetic hymn (of the (post-)modern variety), foretelling the wild partying that was to come (I considered employing the alternate spelling of that last word, but decided that I am too old (or perhaps not drunk enough (I’m currently only on my third glass of wine)) for those kind of shenanigans. As you’ve by now realized however, I am not too old to add this little footnote of sorts alerting all of you to the possibility.)…add another bracket if needed for completion)

In the end, the desire to boogie was somewhat thwarted. Many partygoers seemed more interested in making their own music, and some others had had a bit too much to drink even before their arrival. The real low point for me and my boogieriffic mood was when some young (ahh....to feel old) pretentious twerp quipped something like “its time to put on some real music.” Apparently his intellect took up so much of his ass-crack that it hurt to “get down and boogie”. But I digress. Despite my necessary wining peregrinations, I still had a jolly good time (and I do mean that in all serious, I employ “jolly” simply because, as an ex-pat Canade living the land of “gun-totting xenophobic troglodytes”, I’ve had to become more British than the Brits). The real highlight of the party was the tour of Mr. Mah’s studio. It was, like great jazz, an experience that managed to be cerebral, and yet still filled with soul. I also thoroughly enjoyed the tour of Parker’s room and its legendary memorabilia, and quite simply, it was very nice to hang out with a great group of friends for the evening.

Monday morning (aforementioned party was Sat night) saw Kitty and I make a whirlwind trip to Seattle in preparation for the upcoming week. My Torontonian friend gave notice the day before of his imminent arrival in Vancouver. I particularly remember his airport arrival, in part because I had not seen him for six months, but also because I had an experience that in some ways seemed quintessential of the human condition (or, at least the condition promulgated by our beloved media). Two others and myself were standing near the baggage carousel, intently looking towards the doors out of which he would soon appear. As expected, the recognizable grin soon popped out of the crowd. A brief moment of doubt was dissuaded by his time-honoured gait. At this point I felt a quandary of sorts. Should I continue standing in my present spot, excitedly awaiting his presence with a big fat grin, or should I run forward like a lovelorn lover, too impatient to wait one more second. I’ve always preferred Donne’s image of two parting lovers (So let us melt, and make no noise, / No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; / 'Twere profanation of our joys / To tell the laity our love. ) and hence partly assumed that I’d prefer a similar exchange between uniting lovers…..perhaps I should jettison the extended metaphor (of sorts) here and clarify that there is no “lovin” between us, simply a very deep friendship…., but the point is that a great part of me wanted to run forward and lay a big fat hug on my Torontonian friend.

The rest of the week was beleaguered by too much fun and not enough sleep. Generally a day started off with a late breakfast (replete with requisite coffee and grease to assuage the remanents of the previous night’s activities) attended by those who were otherwise unoccupied. This was then followed by an assortment of activities, but most frequently by swimming, and then next by more coffee drinking. Frequently a break was made for dinner after which the evening activities followed. Much alcohol was consumed during these evenings, usually starting at the beginning and then continuing through to the end. A frequent course of events for these evenings was “drink, talk, hang out a bit, drink, hang out,, drink, and then hilarity ensues.” Of particular note were a fun filled evening of near nudity, an evening of fraternizing with the old crew and our underlings (read = high school chums and those who graduated after us), and an epic game of trivial pursuit. Who knew it could be so hard? Perhaps Genus IV is best left for sober occasions.

That about brings me up to date. I do still have this last week in Seattle to detail, but that can wait for tomorrow. Actually, I’m sure there is more to say about Vancouver 2003, but that can wait till my next entry. I think I’ve said nigh enough for the night.

Saturday, July 05, 2003

Happy 4th of July
So now my Canadian ass deserves a kicking. So be it. Today's been a nice day. Lots of good food. Oversized steaks, mushrooms (the cooking method would require multiple sentences), new potatoes, gravy (excessive perhaps), corn pudding, and apple pie. What is corn pudding you ask? A good question. It's one of those "Americana" dishes. To me, "Americana (I promise, that's the last time) means velveta and jello salad. Despite its brethren, corn pudding proved itself to be tasty and delicious. Other than the requisite fireworks, there was nothing else of note.
I can't sleep. That's about all I've got to say. It's really time to go to bed. There's only one solution. It's time to let my thoughts flow onto the page.

Don't worry, I don't plan on subjecting any of you to my prose.

Sleep well.

Friday, July 04, 2003

Okay, so I need a title. No not me personally, I've already got enough of those, though an official one would be nice. But this blog thing needs a title. Anyone got any ideas? Soup has been criticized (rightly so) by two of you. And despite it's cuteness and momentary hilarity, "Mr. Cutey Pants Speaks Out" has stepped aside to be replaced by three pathetic little question marks. This is a desperate situation. Perhaps some of you have by now realized that the desperate situation is not my nameless blog, in fact I rather prefer it that way, but my idle time. I've done far too little today and now I'm trying to vindicate myself by giving the naming of my blog a sense of great import. If someone could please take care of this then perhaps I can get on to better things. Like learning an ancient language. Or perusing the declassified FBI files of famous people. Did you know that Nikola Tesla (the inventor of the tesla coil) and Albert Einstein both had FBI files? Probably not, and I'm not sure I really needed to know either. For some reason Philip K. Dick's file won't load....hmmmm...As you might surmise, today has been another day of not working. I spent a very enjoyable few hours at the Seattle Art Museum. I very much enjoyed the permanent Japanese and Chinese collections. There was also a particularly nice Warhol of Nixon. Overall, I can't say I was that impressed. Some nice things, but a lot of seconds (not so great pieces by great artists). I think it is perhaps time to head to bed. Sleep well.

Thursday, July 03, 2003

A new day has fallen and, it's sort of like yesterday. I say fallen because it's now 4:15 and I've yet to accoplish anything of note. Well that's not entirely true. Kitty and I plan to head off to the SAM (Seattle Art Museum) in about 45 minutes. We spendt yesterday afternoon at the Seattle Aquarium. Dragonfish are really cool. Exceptionally cool in fact. Some of the coolest looking animals I've ever seen. Sea otters are very cute, as are sea horses. I can tell that this isn't going anywhere. Let me see, ....something interesting....well, I'm sure you all heard about the legalization of sodomy here in these united states of america. Oooh, I know, Britain got a supreme court last week (or maybe it was the week before). Yes, the old country has finally decided to seperate the judicial and legislative functions. Yeah Tony. Go Tiger. Back to something more personal, last night I decided to look into the history of the KKK. Very interesting, I can't say I've found very many sources that I trust. The first apparently reputable source upon which I stumbled (The Indiana Historical Society) turned out to be obviously biased thanks to the opinions of Mr Bondira, the society's president. A great deal of the information he presents is probably accurate, however he fits it all within his desire to vindicate the original KKK (there are many). At the very least, his bias is obvious. Some of the other sources were equally biased in the opposite direction including at least one ".edu" source (whose bias was not so obvious). I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, many american state schools are far worse than mediocre. I've babbled enough. If any one wants a good laugh (okay, perhaps I shouldn't call this funny), check out some Texas "racialist" websites.

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

Boddington's is good. It's very creamy. New Castle is good. It's very tasty. If only they could put the two together. Watered down Guiness perhaps. No, that's a terrible idea and it wasn't even funny. It really is time to go to bed.
Just had a very nice conversation (of the msn variety) with a long lost friend. It's not that his whereabouts have been a unknown, simply that he resides in a far off land. This post was happily interrupted by the appearance of another friend (on msn), this one not so long lost. What a wonderful night, three (the third joined the conversation with the first for a goodly chunk of time) of my closest friends on msn in the same night. I will go to sleep with happy thoughts. Please, you dirty bastards, leave your mind in the gutter and don't read anything obscene into my pleasant thoughts.

Good night.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

I love you :)
-Kitty
Kitty and I have now settled into our apartment is Seattle. It feels good. First time I've truly had my own place and had to deal with all of the associated things (rental screening, lease, internet, etc). Our apartment is rather spartan, but it is very nice. We have the necessties: a large bed, a dining room table, a stereo, computers (that double as DVD players with screens), lots of food, and a backgammon board. Kitty is fast becoming an expert backgammon player. She's fond of risk taking. I'd say too fond, but her style has taught me a few things.

Before I forget. Thanks must go out to Vancouver based sailing Jewish friend, it's nice to know that someone is reading this window into my life. Good also to know that it's someone who has a very good idea of what my life is about and so can actually make some sense of the significance of what appears here. Anyways, if anyone else is reading this, feel free to send me a note (and give me the challenge of a stroked ego). Considering the (at this time... :) ) small audience, I may even take y'all into account while writing. Whoa, what was that! And that! I can't really whine about the proliferation of colloquialisms in the written word if I write stuff like "y'all". Gosh, people might think I'm a southerner or something. That was for the benefit of my beautiful girlfriend, Kitty. I like to give her a hard time (in a friendly manner) about being from the dirty south.

This past week has seen the moving of my stuff and myself from Portland to Seattle. I really did have the sense that I was moving my stuff, as opposed to moving myself and my associated stuff. It's not that I moved that much. One Volvo 240 carload and we were finished. However I didn't really arrive in Seattle until my stuff was unpacked, organized and settled in. I arrived sometime today, probably sometime while I was reorganizing the pantry. If my life were pee wee's playhouse, organization would have been the word of the day. Okay, please excuse me. Other than the aforementioned pantry, I unpacked some boxes, fixed the table, and began the job of deciding on a course of study for the next month. Lot's of reading, or should I say wishful thinking. I'm going to post my reading list, if anyone has any thoughts, please let me know.

Must read:
L'Éducation sentimentale (Gustave Flaubert)
Theory of Film (Siegfried Kracauer)
Camera Lucida (Roland Barthes)
-this one is translated, I should really get the original French
Turning the Mind into an Ally (Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche)
Of Grammatology (Jacques Derrida)
-also translated, I'm not sure whether I'm better off reading the French or the English first
The Art of War (Sun Tzu)
-second read, I've been considering picking up the new translation
Teach Yourself Sanskrit - exactly what the name says
A Macroeconomics reader - probable textbook for my macro course next year, I only intend to read excerpts
Linguistics - a textbook, again I only intend to read excerpts
The Way of the Bodhisattva
The Visual Turn (editor: Angela Dalle Vacche)
S/Z (Roland Barthes)

And that's it. I did bring at least twice that many books with me to Seattle, more because I couldn't decide what to read than because I had delusions that I would actually read them all. I don't even expect to get through all that I've laid out here. But I can try.

Okay, my bed is calling. Good night