Emily and Maaike, you might recognize where the inspiration for this one came from.
I think I like this one a lot (I always do in the immediate flush of post-composition, but still). I feel I came back from my scary no-poems-in-6-months period as a better poet.
Think you this? Read and speak ye your opinion. Hold! What knavery is this? An "el jay cut?" It sounds like a dastardly Spaniard device!
- I've been selected for 4 roles in 2 plays for this year's Shakespeare by the Sea festival! I am extremely excited for that. I am Ventidius and, um, some other guy in Antony and Cleopatra, and I am Dr. Caius and Nim in Merry Wives of Windsor. I don't know MWoW very well at all, and was surprised when I found the amount of stage time Dr. Caius gets. Exciting!
- I've been selected for the Cape St. Mary's performance series! That means some Friday night this summer, I will be reading poems and playing music out at Cape St. Mary's. They usually have 3-4 people on each night.
St. John's friends, as many of you as can fit in my car are invited. Actually everyone is invited but I can guarantee transportation for only 4. Anyway, it'd be an overnight trip and probably super fun. So hey!
- I have not been selected for the Arts Council grant. I don't think? The grants were for projects starting May 15, and it's May 16, so I assumed yesterday was the day to hear. I did not hear!
- I AM STILL FUCKING UNEMPLOYED. Going to try to do something about that right now, actually.
Alan posted this recently but it deserves a second airing
[May. 9th, 2008|02:14 pm]
"The real reason Charles Darwin distresses people, I would argue, is not that he stumbled on an argument against theism. No, the problem was that he replaced theism -- replaced it with a construct more beautiful and majestic than any account of the Supreme Being out side the Book of Job, a construct that invites us to see every variety of life, from aphids to archbishops, zygotes to zoologists, as vibrant threads in an epic tapestry, its warp and woof stretching across the eons and back to the Precambrian ooze, the seminal sea-vents, the primordial clay-pits, or wherever it all began. An astonishing construct, a mind-boggling construct, a construct of which Jehovah is understandably and insanely jealous." - James Morrow.
I have the job search blues. I feel like I am being pulled in so many different directions, professionally, that I am self-defeating at every turn.
1.) I don't want a "proper job" because I feel it would take too much of my time and energy away from the writing that I'm not doing anyway, and I intend to go back to a PhD in 16 months.
2.) I fret about getting a part time coffee-shop / bookstore job because I don't have the connections or the retail experience. I have 4 pared down "menial task resumes = generic cover letter" in my bag right this moment, and I am sitting at a coffee-shop in the downtown core not asking the people behind the counter if they are hiring. Did I check my confidence at the door or what?
3.) I want to get some teaching experience at the University, but I can't seem to make any headway on that front. I need a reference from a former supervisor who thus far hasn't answered my emails.
4.) Auditions for acting, applications for writing, etc. are all not bearing the fruit I hoped they would. I need to be a better freelancer. I am shit at self-motivating, which probably should have clued me in sooner that I'd have difficulties freelancing.
5.) It just came to me. I have about $3,000 saved from the library job. Maybe I can go on welfare until teaching positions for the fall are announced at the University.
6.)Oh, wait, if you have money in the bank you can't go on welfare. Also I think you need to prove you are actively looking for a job.
7.) Speaking of, I am still waiting to hear back from the Arts Council. Whether or not I get that grant will have a huge impact on what I do with the next few months.
8.) I hear of former classmates who have great positions with great companies and I feel like, for all of my potential and skill, I am a failure.
There are reasons I am pretty much perpetually single
[May. 3rd, 2008|12:45 pm]
So the only thing more obvious would have been a monogrammed invitation saying "Yes, I am a bookstore clerk, but we should definitely get a date. I do not get a commission, come on."
Too much to explain succinctly and in a manner that would hold your interest, but basically: I was at Chapters when it occurred to me to look for the magazine my article is in. I have my complimentary copy, I just wanted the thrill of seeing my own name while in a big bookstore.
Anyway, I was definitely getting vibes from the clerk who was helping me look, and the two friends who were with me thought so too, to the extent that they slipped away to let me talk to him one on one.
After we discovered that the magazine isn't carried (BOO TO THAT) we got all kinds of chatty. A co-worker even came to give him a task, during which I stood to one side kind of awkwardly, ready to slip away. And when the co-worker went on her way, he returned to chatting with me!
His Final Words: "Well, it's too bad it's not here, I could be celebrating with you right now."
My Final Words: "Yes, well, I am sure in a closely related tangent universe that is unfolding as it should!"
I MEAN COME ON MICHAEL.
Not knowing what else to say, I made my awkward exit. One of my friends had got into a conversation with an old school chum she'd bumped into, whom she hadn't seen for years, so I was standing alongside for 5 or 10 minutes kind of awkwardly. The guy was working around in our area. Our eyes met once and, because I cannot manage to hold eye contact with someone if I am even the least bit interested in them, I quickly looked away and examined my feet for a time.
When I looked up, he was gone. Then we left the bookstore. Bah! Report card reads: "Does not meet expectations; must improve. Not promoted to the next grade."
I am putting a resume in to the same place today or tomorrow, and I go there on a regular basis anyway . . . . so it may not be a lost cause. But still, it's perfectly clear I need to work on basic flirtation skills.
(Yes, I would like to go out with him, I think. I thought he looked quite nice and I liked his manner very much. That last bit is most important, as I am extremely difficult to please on that particular point).
Basically that means you can listen to a 12 song mix as constructed by me, for free. Go! Listen! Make your own! It's basically the best thing to happen to the internet since youtube.
I am feeling hell of bad existentialism lately. Please stop me before I start writing a Nine Inch Nails type song about every day being exactly the same (oh wait that already exists. Point proven!)
I don't know if this image will display. If it does, well, I took it last week.
I don't know if the rocks are man-made or naturally arranged like that. I think I enjoy not knowing. I like to envision ancient stonework and cities in places where they most likely were not. Speculative pre-history always engages me.
Cocaine, naturally occurring only in the Americas, found in Egyptian mummy wrappings! and such. Yeah maybe the archaeologist decided it'd be fun to do a line of blow off a sarcophagus and when traces of cocaine were found he wouldn't fess up because it'd ruin the university's relationship with the Egyptian government.
But I prefer secret and implausible ancient global trade routes, OK?
Anyway.
On the other side of the hill is St. John's, Canada's 20th largest urban area and North America's easternmost city (by several hundred kilometres).
I'm listening to CBC's Poetry Face-off this week, and once again I'm reminded that I really hate 85% of what passes for poetry.
Especially the trendy shit. Especially if there's a bed of music or sound effects underneath it. Call me antediluvian, but I think a poem should be able to stand on its own without a sound track and FX score.
I have the Star of the Sea Association's historical records in my possession. They'd like me to look them over and do something up for the 132nd anniversary. Yeah, all the way back to 1876.
After reading the 60th page of handwritten text (some of it neat and legible, some of it . . . . not), I vowed to never again complain about or mock Comic Sans or Papyrus or what have you. Comic Sans is ugly and obnoxious, but least it's readable. Papyrus is what 15 year olds put on their web-page to look deep and cool and ancient, but at least I don't spend 30 seconds trying to figure out what a word even is (I was going to say "anyway, hypertext documents don't show age like print and paper" but I am wrong. Animated gifs are the Gothic Lettering of the internet).
In other news istartedplayingworldofwarcraft.
Yeah. I know. Pray for me. The only thing that might save my life from the Great Devourer That You Call WoW! is the fact that my brother and I are sharing an account, and we cannot be logged on simultaneously.
Also @forumz had one of its meltdowns. Like a volcano, it is prone to them every 18-32 months, although this dust-up is pretty epic. @forumz weeps lava tears, to steal a phrase from John Allison (ps: Easter Bell storyline is rating very high with me, Mr. Allison).
Thank goodness I have calming music and sunny days in bucolic landscapes. A walk up southeast with disc 2 of Kate Bush's "Aerial" is all I need to feel once more that the world is made of crumpets and kittens and the slow and gentle turning of the seasons.
1.) Estimated $230 a month to be "about $1300 a year" in a discussion with my father, and did not realize my mistake until he spent a significant amount of time just looking at me funny.
2.) Dropped a bowl of spinach as I took it out of the fridge
3.) Spilled coffee all over the carpet
4.) Murdered my mother's amaryllis plant with the rocking chair. I was rocking in a wanton fashion I guess.
I am going to sit perfectly still in a chair (non-rocking) for a while. Obviously I am not meant to do anything but make a fool of myself today.
I am retroactively declaring St. Vincent's Marry Me as 2007's Album of the Year. It is so up my alley it's almost like the album was tailor made for me.
This is just like how in 2007 I retroactively declared The Knife's Silent Shout to be album of the Year 2006.
And in 2006 giving Sufjan Stevens / Patrick Wolf joint honours for 2005.
Why is it I'm always discovering last year's big thing? Oh well. Better late than never.
Originally posted by mr_clarinet (no Alan I did not forget!):
Here is a list of things about postmodernism, probably the most widely mischaracterized branch of theory ever. certainly so in cyberspace.
1. postmodernism is not the same as absolute relativism.
2. jacques derrida and michel foucault are not postmodernists. derrida was a deconstructionist, foucault a post-structuralist.
3. postmodernism is extremely difficult to define, and most theorists have differing ideas about what is IS; IMHO, it is not an ideology, not something to be "advocated" or not; it's not like feminism; it is something that IS. as such, it is to do with capitalism and the nature of the modern world, the dominance of advertising images, media, and mass production over our lives and the way we conceive of what it means for something to be "real" and "authentic".
4. just because some postmodern theory is badly written and difficult to understand does not mean that those theorists are talking bullshit. this is not a reason to dismiss them. if it were, i would dismiss all maths and physics textbooks for the same reason.
5. just because it is possible to parody the tropes of "postmodern" discourse does not mean that that discourse is bullshit.
6. however, some of them probably ARE.
7. some postmodern theorists are overly fond of puns. get over it.
ME: I do hate the punning, so much, but otherwise I am in total agreement. Usually, I find the people who bellyache about postmodernism have very strange ideas of what postmodernism is, or they characterize the entire broad and fuzzily-defined region of thought with some of the ridiculous things purported post-modernists have said.
These ridiculous things are often taken out of context or misunderstood, but some of them are, admittedly, out to lunch. But doesn't every -ism have a few loons to its name?
But how many of them are loons? If I talk about how AIDS is socially constructed, I am NOT saying that there is no physical virus which enters bodies and causes them to become ill and die. Social constructivism doesn't do away with physical reality, it only means physical reality does not have a direct relationship with how we talk about and think about reality.
Our understanding of physical reality is a mediated one. There are imperatives, which means no one thinks "Oh my goodness you cut off my arm! I'll just socially construct myself a new one." It means, once the arm is gone, how you think and feel about that is largely informed by your society and your own social conditioning. This is how post-modernism is not anti-science. Post-modernism concerns itself with how you'll interpret your scientific findings, the metaphors you will use to disseminate your interpretations to the public, and how that will in turn will be commidified and appied within our capitalist system.
Post-modernism is not against the empirical method.
The thing is, post-modernism is very difficult to sum up. It doesn't really lend itself to slogans very well. I was recently in a coffee shop (oh lord, I know, a coffee shop talking about post modernism) and I struggled and, I think, failed to define postmodernism to someone who was criticizing it (wrongly, I felt).
So: to me, it basically it means most of what we base our emotional understanding of the world on is not real and lived experience, it is media depictions and received ideas. This dominance of the depicted over the lived has been facilitated by broadcast communications and mechanical reproductions of art.
It is the end result of a process that began with the printing press.
The simulacrum, the re-constructed, is now more 'real' than the genuine, except for traditionalists who angrily insist that this isn't so, because for them the concept of genuine VERSUS fake is an important one to make (I have thought about this and although I sometimes feel that way myself I don't see any logical reason why genuine is always better than fake, just by virtue of the fact that it is genuine. Why? What is genuine, anyway?)
What is "tacky" but a class descriptor? (said by someone who sometimes can't stomach tacky things).
Some people perceive this as the end of meaning, leading to an existential despair, but I disagree. At least, I don't feel full of despair. "You're not done living just because you chalk it up to artifice."
To me, post-modernism is finally going to the Louvre to see the ACTUAL Mona Lisa, having grown up with simulacra of the Mona Lisa as an entity within your largely media-based reality, and feeling sort of let down when you realize how little and dingy the 'real' Mona Lisa is.
The lived experience of Mona Lisa is less real than the Mona Lisa that exists in our minds, which we have pieced together from the countless reproductions we have encountered in media. Think of the Mona Lisa. Isn't the image in your head bigger, bolder, the colours stronger, more vibrant, more . . . real?
Alan's most important point, I think, is that postmodernity isn't an ideology. It isn't something that must be implemented. In that sense it differs strongly from feminism, communism, etc. It is not anti-science. It is not amoral. Some chose to make it so, but they do not stand for the whole.
Some of my favourite Newfoundland words and phrases
[Apr. 3rd, 2008|10:27 pm]
Prompted by omlaboombleigh, who added a similar list of Brooklyn words and phrases to his response to the recent Dialect Meme.
Sometimes I get help with examples from The Dictionary of Newfoundland English which has a lovely searchable online presence. Others are just my explanation!
I only chose words which I would naturally use myself.
NFLD Words & Phrases
landwash: Generally, the shoreline, but more specifically, the area between the high tide and low tide lines. You can see the whole landwash at low tide. I think this is both poetic and accurate! It's my favourite NFLD word (I only realized it was a NFLD word a few years ago).
merry-begot: Another favourite. A merry-begot is, simply put, a bastard! As in, a baby born outside of wedlock. I think it is one of our language's most colourful and poetic words. "Born from fun," is what it says to me. Merry-begot.
sleveen: a sly, untrustworthy fellow. I believe it is from the Irish. "Don't turn your back on him, he's a pure sleveen." Not always that sinister; sometimes it just means a trickster.
streel: an untidy and disorganized person, usually a woman. It applies to both grooming/dress and house-cleaning. The dictionary doesn't reflect this but I've always felt there was a bit of a sexual undertone to this word. "She's an awful streel around the house." A person can also be streelish. I believe these are Irish derivations.
birch broom in the fits: Untidy or unruly hair. A streel's hair may be described as such. "I'm in some state! Me hair is like the birch broom in the fits!"
angishore or hangashore: A lazy good-for-nothing who refuses to work; a weak, sickly person; or an unlucky person deserving pity. Usually male. Angishore is also derived from Irish. It has become hangashore in a lot of regions, leading to the false etymology "someone who hangs back on the shore" — as, in old NFLD, most of a man's work is done out on the water.
rogue: A thief or outlaw, as it is in general English, but also used as a verb for 'to steal.' "I'm gonna rogue this chocolate bar!" "How could he afford that? I s'pose he rogued it." This may not be NFLD—anyone want to correct me?
hand: Someone who does an action, originally from hands on a ship (all hands on deck!). This is difficult to explain without examples. "You're some hand to sing" means you are a good singer. "He's a grand hand to dance" means he is a good dancer. Come to think of it, I generally only know it as a positive expression. "I'm a [positive adjective] hand [infintive verb]." "My, he's a wonderful hand to write!"
whore's eggs: "You may know them as sea urchins, ma'am" (a true definition and also the title of a book by Newfoundland's master satirist, Ray Guy). In all honesty, this phrase does not come up very often — but how could I leave it out?
mauzy: Weather that is warm, humid, foggy, with little or no wind. "It's a mauzy day."
dout: "To extinguish a fire; turn off an electric light." Dout the lights when you leave the room.
firk: I only recently learned this was a NFLD word. It basically means to poke or scratch at something. Chickens firk the ground. There is an undertone of searching in it, too. You can firk through your laundry to find your favourite shirt.
pishogue, also pisherogue: Superstitions, folk tales and ghost stories ("old foolishness").
bridge: A verandah, step, or deck, attached to a house. "It was such a nice day, I sat out on the bridge with my book."
Mother in Law door: Front doors are almost never used in Newfoundland, so when housing plans from the mainland started coming here, many people never bothered to put steps up to the raised front doors. I remember these being common even in the 90's, but they are becoming more rare now.
poisoned: frustrated with something. "To cause to be annoyed, irritated, disappointed or completely disgusted." I quite like this example, from the dictionary: "There's crowds of people goes to work every day and poisons theirselves so they can live a half-decent life and get something for their families"
crooked: does not mean dishonest, but rather cantankerous or cranky. Crookedness may either a temporary affliction (I'm crooked 'cause I didn't get to go to Town) or a permanent state (Aunt Mary's the crookedest of all the family). "You're some crooked arse" is not a comment about your anatomy; it means you are being difficult and unpleasant.
Town: Since I used it above, I may as well gloss it. When a Newfoundlander says 'town,' there is no question that they mean "St. John's." "She's from Town" is not an ambiguous statement, here. People from Town are called Townies, and they are purported to be right stuck up by Baymen (anyone not from Town).
blasty: A "blasty bough" is a branch of an evergreen that has died; the needles turn red but they stay attached. So if a tree has "gone blasty" it's basically a red evergreen (you see these sometimes). Blasty boughs are extremely flammable and are great for starting a fire, versus green boughs which are reluctant to burn and produce great quantities of choking smoke when they do.
black: A protestant. "Saucy as a black!" is not racial prejudice; it's religious! from the Dictionary: "We [Roman Catholics] might have changed and got broadminded, but they're still as bad as ever they were, the black bastards!"
badness: mischevious intent. "I hid before he came in the room, just for badness!"
ampery: Visibly infected, red and swollen. "The cut was all red and ampery." I grew up saying "ampry."
glutch: to swallow quickly and forcefully. From the Dictionary: "If a person has hiccups and wants to get rid of them, he can do so by taking nine glutches of water"
awful: remarkable or exceptional. I almost didn't include it, as the word does have some of this function in general English ("that's awful nice!") but the example in the Dictionary was too good to pass up: She said, 'He sent me an awful present.' I thought 'that's really looking a gift horse in the face' until she said, 'He sent me six hens, and they was three dollars each. My, 'twas some good of him, wasn't it?'
rampse: to wrestle or play-fight. My grandmother would constantly tell me and my brother to stop rampsin', because it made her nervous.
rory-eyed: Furious, in a fit of anger. If we continued to rampse after Nan said to stop, Dad would get rory-eyed.
slob ice: When a body of water is not quite frozen, but there is a layer of slushy half-formed ice on top of it. that slushy half-formed ice is "slob ice."
sin: Anything even mildly unfortunate, unpleasant, or unfair. "You never got to see him when he was visitin'? That's a sin!" Also, "that's a sin for you!" is a common mild admonishment. It is not meant overly literally.
maid: Any woman. My Aunts often call my mother "Betty maid." Another example: "Did many people show up?" "Yes, maid, we had three dozen or more!"
b'y: Contraction of "boy," said like "bye." Used to refer to any man, but is starting to become ungendered now. Import from SE Ireland, I think, because people in Waterford said it in the same way. Almost so ubiquotus and cliché (I'se da B'y) that I never included it. It also almost works like the Ontarian "eh?" "Yes b'y!" "Go on, b'y!" "What do you say to that now, b'y?"
Jackatar: A Newfoundlander of mixed French and Mi'kmaq (Micmac) descent. Not always used in a nice way. "There do be plenty of Jackatars out Stephenville way."
Shiela's Brush: Snow storm on or around March 18, the day after St. Patrick's Day. Sheila is purported to be Patrick's wife, sister, or housekeeper.
gommel: A stupid fellow. "You foolish gommel!"
Silver Thaw or Glitter: I'm gonna leave off with another poetic one. A silver thaw is basically after an ice storm, when exposed objects are covered with a coat of ice, or glitter. The dictionary entry for "glitter" also has "glitter storm," which I've never heard before but which I'm now in love with.
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