Well, that's disappointing.
I just looked through a cool photo series (at http://irinawerning.com/back-to-the-fut/back-to-the-future/) about recreating old pictures with the same subjects 20- 30 years after the fact. I was going to suggest it specifically to a friend of mine to check, but then retreated.
I had trouble sleeping last night, mostly because I was excited to start a job today. Only a few hours of rest, but I still woke up in direct competition with the alarm clock. I had a big breakfast. I made a PB+J sandwich for lunch.
I got a ride down, I was 20 minutes early so I could be 15 minutes early and look like a genius (apparently, if you're 15 minutes early for work all the time, you're golden. I'm not nuts about it, but I'm getting with that program. At least today.).
I introduced myself to a few people. Hung up my coat. Then walked out with the, I don't know, floor manager, so that we could take a seat outside for him to tell me I DIDN'T have a job.
New management, new rules, I feel terrible about this.
So back into the store I go, to pick up my coat.
"With an unexpectedly free day, a metropass good for a few hours yet, and a sandwich to my name, what should I do now?"
I thought about calling up some people to hang out with, but didn't do that either.
It's been a year and eleven days since I've started this thing, writing this "blog" I mean. I still don't care for that word. What have I learned about myself? I don't know. I still like my goofy jokes. So that's something.
AAAAAUGHSKDGHDKNBAKLNGLKNSLG. There we go, I can deal with that degree of freaking out. It's better than whatever sentence I was going to try.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
"She's going to make it after all" dun da dun duh
I keep going back and forth over whether I should post something now or not, because it's late, and I should go to bed. I've spent the day with the Mary Tyler Moore show, and the film version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest.
AND THEN in the past two days I've seen episodes of two Bob Newhart shows, and finished that Nightwing and Flamebird collection.
So, apparently I'm nostalgic for the 70's.
Which is some trick. I've heard of people dreaming about the roarin' 20's, the nuclear family 50's (not that I believe in that), give peace a chance 60's, the MTV 80's, the TGIF 90's... and I guess that's it.
But yes, this show is pretty awesome. That Ed Asner. It's ridiculous- that's the 90's Spider-Man show J. Jonah Jameson, and here he is- 40 something, with all the characters going on about how old he is- fast forward 30+ years, and his voice is still showing up.
"MR. GRAANT I'm not sleepy!"
Talking to your boss like he's your father- there's a fair bit of values dissonance here. But even then, I've seen a bunch of stuff that I know was really subversive for the time. I bet my Mor Mor hated these shows.
That's it I've seen this episode, I'm going to bed.
AND THEN in the past two days I've seen episodes of two Bob Newhart shows, and finished that Nightwing and Flamebird collection.
So, apparently I'm nostalgic for the 70's.
Which is some trick. I've heard of people dreaming about the roarin' 20's, the nuclear family 50's (not that I believe in that), give peace a chance 60's, the MTV 80's, the TGIF 90's... and I guess that's it.
But yes, this show is pretty awesome. That Ed Asner. It's ridiculous- that's the 90's Spider-Man show J. Jonah Jameson, and here he is- 40 something, with all the characters going on about how old he is- fast forward 30+ years, and his voice is still showing up.
"MR. GRAANT I'm not sleepy!"
Talking to your boss like he's your father- there's a fair bit of values dissonance here. But even then, I've seen a bunch of stuff that I know was really subversive for the time. I bet my Mor Mor hated these shows.
That's it I've seen this episode, I'm going to bed.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Bottles and Wolfsbane
I wanted to get on here last night, but as is always the possibility, I couldn't. And now, how am I supposed to remember all the stuff I was going to say?
Well, for one thing, just before turning off the light and heading to Nod I did leave myself a note about one quotation I wanted to bring up from this collection of "Nightwing and Flamebird" stories. So, let me read it, then I'll be up to speed, then YOU'LL be up to speed.
Okay, awesome, so here's the set up:
Nightwing and Flamebird are basically the Batman and Robin of Kandor, Kandor being the bottled city that came from Superman's home of Kyrpton, now residing in his Fortress of Solitude.
You with me so far?
So in this one story, separatists want out, they're sick of living in a bottle, they want to go out and get their own planet. It's a pretty reasonable thing to start a discussion about, so how do they go about it? Well, if you're this one guy, you try to assasinate the leader of the anti-separatist movement (stay-ment?) dressed as an historical hero of Krypton.
So when the dynamic duo of Kandor finally stop this guy, the last dialogue in the story goes "That's right, son. Kandor's going to remain in its bottle for quite some time to come."
The End.
Because having one crazy guy on your side completely invalidates your desire to change things. It was so sudden, such a 'jar'-ing (good one, right?) halt to the story, that I couldn't help but laugh. These super types get accused of maintaining the status quo, for good or ill, and I just found it really funny that these two characters in the end didn't blink at keeping things as they are.
I guess they've got a good racket going. Wait wait- "I guess they've got a good bottle-racket going."
I know that one was a stretch... you know, like "bottle rocket"?
Fine, whatever- I thought it was funny.
Reading through various X-Men books, it's been fun to meet characters I really didn't have much acquaintance with- particularly the "New Mutants". I was already a fan of Cannonball, the guy usually sporting the goggles and southern accent, but now I'm getting to know Rahne (pronounced 'Rain', although I still have a rough time getting that through my head) Sinclair, who's a lot of fun. She's very sweet but is very prudish, which puts her at odds with everyone else.
Well, mostly just other female characters. Maybe male writers (of the 90's specifically) can't think of any other way to express their female characters than by having them harp on each other.
Like most Marvel characters, she's pretty insecure about herself. But while most of those others are, say, brilliant scientists or millionaires or possessing of movie star good looks (or if you're Iron Man- all three at once) and it tends to come off as, you know, stupid- Rahne makes it believable. It helps that her super power is to turn into a wolf/werewolf. Despite the fact that she's afforded a surprising number of low level required secondary powers with this ability, at the end of the day she's surrounded by MASTERS OF MAGNETISM! and dudes that shoot lasers out of all sorts of places.
AND she spends most of her time looking half wolf. With her, I GET the confidence issues.
That said, what I don't get? All these X-Men characters will either speak french, spanish, or have a southern or irish accent. It's weird to me.
The best line from this other book, Jubilee busts out some bad french "would you mind parlaying all that into anglais, sill vows plates?"
Then Emma Frost replies that she appears to be taking french lessons from Gambit. I thought that was hilarious.
Well, I remember what else I wanted to talk about, and yes, it's still X-Men related (I've been reading a lot of X-Men these past few days, what can I say?) but I'll save it for next time.
Well, for one thing, just before turning off the light and heading to Nod I did leave myself a note about one quotation I wanted to bring up from this collection of "Nightwing and Flamebird" stories. So, let me read it, then I'll be up to speed, then YOU'LL be up to speed.
Okay, awesome, so here's the set up:
Nightwing and Flamebird are basically the Batman and Robin of Kandor, Kandor being the bottled city that came from Superman's home of Kyrpton, now residing in his Fortress of Solitude.
You with me so far?
So in this one story, separatists want out, they're sick of living in a bottle, they want to go out and get their own planet. It's a pretty reasonable thing to start a discussion about, so how do they go about it? Well, if you're this one guy, you try to assasinate the leader of the anti-separatist movement (stay-ment?) dressed as an historical hero of Krypton.
So when the dynamic duo of Kandor finally stop this guy, the last dialogue in the story goes "That's right, son. Kandor's going to remain in its bottle for quite some time to come."
The End.
Because having one crazy guy on your side completely invalidates your desire to change things. It was so sudden, such a 'jar'-ing (good one, right?) halt to the story, that I couldn't help but laugh. These super types get accused of maintaining the status quo, for good or ill, and I just found it really funny that these two characters in the end didn't blink at keeping things as they are.
I guess they've got a good racket going. Wait wait- "I guess they've got a good bottle-racket going."
I know that one was a stretch... you know, like "bottle rocket"?
Fine, whatever- I thought it was funny.
Reading through various X-Men books, it's been fun to meet characters I really didn't have much acquaintance with- particularly the "New Mutants". I was already a fan of Cannonball, the guy usually sporting the goggles and southern accent, but now I'm getting to know Rahne (pronounced 'Rain', although I still have a rough time getting that through my head) Sinclair, who's a lot of fun. She's very sweet but is very prudish, which puts her at odds with everyone else.
Well, mostly just other female characters. Maybe male writers (of the 90's specifically) can't think of any other way to express their female characters than by having them harp on each other.
Like most Marvel characters, she's pretty insecure about herself. But while most of those others are, say, brilliant scientists or millionaires or possessing of movie star good looks (or if you're Iron Man- all three at once) and it tends to come off as, you know, stupid- Rahne makes it believable. It helps that her super power is to turn into a wolf/werewolf. Despite the fact that she's afforded a surprising number of low level required secondary powers with this ability, at the end of the day she's surrounded by MASTERS OF MAGNETISM! and dudes that shoot lasers out of all sorts of places.
AND she spends most of her time looking half wolf. With her, I GET the confidence issues.
That said, what I don't get? All these X-Men characters will either speak french, spanish, or have a southern or irish accent. It's weird to me.
The best line from this other book, Jubilee busts out some bad french "would you mind parlaying all that into anglais, sill vows plates?"
Then Emma Frost replies that she appears to be taking french lessons from Gambit. I thought that was hilarious.
Well, I remember what else I wanted to talk about, and yes, it's still X-Men related (I've been reading a lot of X-Men these past few days, what can I say?) but I'll save it for next time.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Phonogram: Rue Britannia
I just finished reading through Phonogram volume 1: Rue Britannia by Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie. Sort of a big deal, since hearing about this book was what catalyzed my recent library holds splurging, leaving me up to my shins in comics to read before they're due back.
What interested me about the book was the sort of character progression the main character was supposed to have gone through- but having read it, I think said progress could easily have gone over my head if I wasn't sitting back and looking for it.
The basic premise of the book is... uh a nostalgic wizard leaves his past open to meddling because he is nostalgic. But replace 'wizard' with music lover, but replace 'music lover' with phonomancer.
The villain(s) is more of a type of music lover that is ultimately left to their own devices, which was a personal victory for the hero, but then there was the goddess Britannia who was emblematic of that history of music that introduced the hero to music/magic who was convinced not to come back...
Look sorry, I'm really sucking at talking about this thing. It's a book about one character that thinks everything and everyone else is stupid, who eventually grows to realize that he is also stupid, but that it's okay.
You know how the characters in Scott Pilgrim are mostly jerks? But at least they're fun to watch? And start to grow into not jerks?
This book is when those jerks aren't fun to watch, and only the one guy (the hero at least) is approaching 'not a jerk' status. Tentatively.
It's a book that is only accessable to a select few. If you were into music in the 90's, and you lived in England, then this book will hit close to home. If you didn't live in England but were still REALLY into 90's English music, then this can still be for you, but the social scene itself is lost on you.
And that's it. If you're not among that group and a half, you probably won't dig this book.
Just to compare with Scott Pilgrim again- Scott will speak to the Toronto crowd, its "scene", but if you don't live in Toronto there's still the music focus (mostly a music world separate from the real world, which helps that you don't need to know a bunch of trivia to get whats going on)-
BUT if you don't like the music focus, there's the video game focus.
BUT if you don't care for the video game focus, there's the romance/relationship angle.
And if you don't like ANY of that stuff- why are you reading Scott Pilgrim?
They are lots of different things to like is what I'm saying.
Phonogram isn't bad. It's niche. Super niche.
What interested me about the book was the sort of character progression the main character was supposed to have gone through- but having read it, I think said progress could easily have gone over my head if I wasn't sitting back and looking for it.
The basic premise of the book is... uh a nostalgic wizard leaves his past open to meddling because he is nostalgic. But replace 'wizard' with music lover, but replace 'music lover' with phonomancer.
The villain(s) is more of a type of music lover that is ultimately left to their own devices, which was a personal victory for the hero, but then there was the goddess Britannia who was emblematic of that history of music that introduced the hero to music/magic who was convinced not to come back...
Look sorry, I'm really sucking at talking about this thing. It's a book about one character that thinks everything and everyone else is stupid, who eventually grows to realize that he is also stupid, but that it's okay.
You know how the characters in Scott Pilgrim are mostly jerks? But at least they're fun to watch? And start to grow into not jerks?
This book is when those jerks aren't fun to watch, and only the one guy (the hero at least) is approaching 'not a jerk' status. Tentatively.
It's a book that is only accessable to a select few. If you were into music in the 90's, and you lived in England, then this book will hit close to home. If you didn't live in England but were still REALLY into 90's English music, then this can still be for you, but the social scene itself is lost on you.
And that's it. If you're not among that group and a half, you probably won't dig this book.
Just to compare with Scott Pilgrim again- Scott will speak to the Toronto crowd, its "scene", but if you don't live in Toronto there's still the music focus (mostly a music world separate from the real world, which helps that you don't need to know a bunch of trivia to get whats going on)-
BUT if you don't like the music focus, there's the video game focus.
BUT if you don't care for the video game focus, there's the romance/relationship angle.
And if you don't like ANY of that stuff- why are you reading Scott Pilgrim?
They are lots of different things to like is what I'm saying.
Phonogram isn't bad. It's niche. Super niche.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thinking of others for a bit anyways.
No two ways about it, I've been in one of my more misanthropic moods lately, but having just read some good comics, I seem to be on the upswing. It's the same feeling I had after the new Tron movie, and, unless I'm remembering it wrong, Green Hornet as well.
Sometimes, you just need an uplifting allegory.
Though I was plenty tired five short hours ago (it's now almost 5 am), I read through all 18 comics comprising Chris Claremont's "X-Men: The End" series. One issue began with a quotation that I had to jot down. I'll assume it's a "real" quote by a "real" person (I say "real" in that it's a person I will never meet in person, therefore real or not makes little difference, the important thing is whether or not the words strike a chord with me- which they obviously do)
Anyway, from Men and X-Men #1, parts of a speech by Robert Kennedy, quoted at his funeral by his brother Ted:
"We can perhaps remember- even if only for a time- that those who live with us are our brothers; that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek- as we do- nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can... Surely this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something..."
I keep thinking I didn't need to add the last sentence of the quote, that it's a bit redundant, the remainder of the quote, in me even using it here (and of course, in it being used in the one comic) already highlights the idea, and forces us to ask that question "surely this can teach us something?" all on its own.
But whatever, I can add an extra line, no skin off my nose.
Uuhh but the aesthetics!!!
It's fine. I'll take it up with Chris Claremont next time I see him.
I'd use a winking emoticon right now, but it looks weird.
I've got things to do this Saturday, I should get to sleep.
Sometimes, you just need an uplifting allegory.
Though I was plenty tired five short hours ago (it's now almost 5 am), I read through all 18 comics comprising Chris Claremont's "X-Men: The End" series. One issue began with a quotation that I had to jot down. I'll assume it's a "real" quote by a "real" person (I say "real" in that it's a person I will never meet in person, therefore real or not makes little difference, the important thing is whether or not the words strike a chord with me- which they obviously do)
Anyway, from Men and X-Men #1, parts of a speech by Robert Kennedy, quoted at his funeral by his brother Ted:
"We can perhaps remember- even if only for a time- that those who live with us are our brothers; that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek- as we do- nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can... Surely this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something..."
I keep thinking I didn't need to add the last sentence of the quote, that it's a bit redundant, the remainder of the quote, in me even using it here (and of course, in it being used in the one comic) already highlights the idea, and forces us to ask that question "surely this can teach us something?" all on its own.
But whatever, I can add an extra line, no skin off my nose.
Uuhh but the aesthetics!!!
It's fine. I'll take it up with Chris Claremont next time I see him.
I'd use a winking emoticon right now, but it looks weird.
I've got things to do this Saturday, I should get to sleep.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
A little on writers craft.
I'm tired, but I just wanted to get something down here.
Ah, that makes it sound like I've got something specific to say real quick- no, not sure what I'll write, I just want something in this space.
Oh, Ms. McGinn!
She was my writers craft teacher, I took the class during my "victory lap" of high school (what would have been grade 13) in fact, writer's craft was pretty much my whole reason to take that extra year. There were a lot of courses I wanted to take, but that was the big one. The other thing being the music theatre stuff, which ended up being kind of weird, but whatever.
Anyway, Ms. McGinn is super lovely. If I'm remembering write (I mean right) each class we had, what? Ten minutes of free writing?... actually, I think we were given assignments to write about, forms and themes to work with. 'Do something in the style of X' kind of thing. But those kind of limits encourage imagination, so it boils down to free writing.
She was always glad to have the class, she was really hard to upset, which naturally means she was respected and therefore had little trouble with students in the first place. I definitely believe that students can sense when teachers are exasperated and in over their heads, and respond accordingly in the negative.
Then again, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about with certain classes. I'm going by her writers craft- and everyone who was there wanted to be there- and my one chemistry teacher in grade 12 who was ridiculously well respected. That guy was the man, it was almost magical- WHILE ALSO being kind of a nerd who got learning done. Good guy.
I'd sometimes have trouble with this one rule though: once the bell rings, if you were outside the door, that's where you'd stay, at least until after they finished off with the national anthem. But eh, I didn't really mind, I'd still get a wink through the whole dressing down procedure of being allowed into class.
The final project of the class was pretty open ended. The first few chapters of a novel, the last few, a book of poems- pretty much whatever you wanted.
I did three short stories, all the night before because I'm a big dope that thinks he can coast through things on his natural gifts instead of persistent work (it's something that I've gotten better with, but I still struggle with that one).
So I stayed up almost all night scribbling these stories down. My plan was to write the worst one first while I was fresh, the medium one as I was getting tired, and the one that would be the best I'd write when I was totally exhausted, the idea being that that way they'd all be ultimately balanced quality wise.
I'm a silly guy.
I'm pretty sure I got a little sleep, but then I had to get the whole thing typed up- OH WAIT! I remember I only had enough time to type up one of my three stories (and even that one I had my brother Jordan type some while I showered) and so only the one story was graded, leaving me with a 40% on the final project... and so what I've always been saying is that "so really, I'd have gotten 120% on the whole thing"
That's pretty funny. I thought it was a pretty good line.
I haven't seen Ms. McGinn in a while now, what with the natural repulsion an old high school will engender in oneself, but I did a lot of visiting in my earlier university years, I've loaned a lot of comics to Ms. McGinn, helping to get the comic form studied in that writers craft class. One time I even did a lecture on comics for one class, it was pretty fun, though a little scattered, but just because I was excited talking about something I love to talk about.
I hope she's doing well- I wonder what comic I last left with her?
I learned a lot from that class, but still, that was a long time ago.
Ah, that makes it sound like I've got something specific to say real quick- no, not sure what I'll write, I just want something in this space.
Oh, Ms. McGinn!
She was my writers craft teacher, I took the class during my "victory lap" of high school (what would have been grade 13) in fact, writer's craft was pretty much my whole reason to take that extra year. There were a lot of courses I wanted to take, but that was the big one. The other thing being the music theatre stuff, which ended up being kind of weird, but whatever.
Anyway, Ms. McGinn is super lovely. If I'm remembering write (I mean right) each class we had, what? Ten minutes of free writing?... actually, I think we were given assignments to write about, forms and themes to work with. 'Do something in the style of X' kind of thing. But those kind of limits encourage imagination, so it boils down to free writing.
She was always glad to have the class, she was really hard to upset, which naturally means she was respected and therefore had little trouble with students in the first place. I definitely believe that students can sense when teachers are exasperated and in over their heads, and respond accordingly in the negative.
Then again, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about with certain classes. I'm going by her writers craft- and everyone who was there wanted to be there- and my one chemistry teacher in grade 12 who was ridiculously well respected. That guy was the man, it was almost magical- WHILE ALSO being kind of a nerd who got learning done. Good guy.
I'd sometimes have trouble with this one rule though: once the bell rings, if you were outside the door, that's where you'd stay, at least until after they finished off with the national anthem. But eh, I didn't really mind, I'd still get a wink through the whole dressing down procedure of being allowed into class.
The final project of the class was pretty open ended. The first few chapters of a novel, the last few, a book of poems- pretty much whatever you wanted.
I did three short stories, all the night before because I'm a big dope that thinks he can coast through things on his natural gifts instead of persistent work (it's something that I've gotten better with, but I still struggle with that one).
So I stayed up almost all night scribbling these stories down. My plan was to write the worst one first while I was fresh, the medium one as I was getting tired, and the one that would be the best I'd write when I was totally exhausted, the idea being that that way they'd all be ultimately balanced quality wise.
I'm a silly guy.
I'm pretty sure I got a little sleep, but then I had to get the whole thing typed up- OH WAIT! I remember I only had enough time to type up one of my three stories (and even that one I had my brother Jordan type some while I showered) and so only the one story was graded, leaving me with a 40% on the final project... and so what I've always been saying is that "so really, I'd have gotten 120% on the whole thing"
That's pretty funny. I thought it was a pretty good line.
I haven't seen Ms. McGinn in a while now, what with the natural repulsion an old high school will engender in oneself, but I did a lot of visiting in my earlier university years, I've loaned a lot of comics to Ms. McGinn, helping to get the comic form studied in that writers craft class. One time I even did a lecture on comics for one class, it was pretty fun, though a little scattered, but just because I was excited talking about something I love to talk about.
I hope she's doing well- I wonder what comic I last left with her?
I learned a lot from that class, but still, that was a long time ago.
Monday, February 14, 2011
No Valentine's talk. Again, you're welcome.
Man, it feels like forever since I was here to post.
Well, may as well ease myself into it.
Last Friday (or maybe Thursday- the fact that I'm not sure is really getting me... no, yeah, it was Friday.) I was on lunch break, sauntering down Yonge St., when I came upon "Garlic Peper Szechuan Cuisine and Seafood".
I guess that's the name- I'm going by the take out menu right in front of me.
If I'm buying lunch I don't normally get something a little more exotic (to me) for a couple of reasons. There's the fact that if I'm going to be spending money I want to be sure I'll enjoy the food (experimenting with friends means I'll enjoy the experience regardless... so this is when I'm eating alone) and the other big one is that I try to be health conscious pretty much at all times.
That doesn't mean I'll necessarily eat healthy ALL the time, but I am pretty aware of what I'm eating, I know whether or not it's good for me. With chinese food- man, I've got no idea!
But I was in a good mood, I saw their lunch special was $7.50, a 4 "coures" (ah, sorry, I see they misspelled course on their menu) meal of soup; crispy roll (dude, THAT'S what that's called? Crispy roll? Seems too easy..), entree, and rice or noodles.
So pretty much the only thing I knew was okay for me was the steamed rice. Which I could've had fried.
I was seated in front of the window to the street, which I realized was done to promote business- I know that isn't some great realization, but it's something that came to me during lunch- and I had a lovely time. Relaxing, and getting something not as heavy as McDonald's (had McDonalds the day before, it was kinda gross. My stomach rebelled at repeating the performance two days in a row. Oh, but there were these two adorable kids there that kept staring at me while I ate my chicken nuggets... uh, right, back to the chinese place)
(some space for the reading benefit. let's give you a breath)
I got the food really fast, which was something I didn't let myself hope for. The fish soup was... kinda weird. It and the stuff sauce over the entree were interesting, and okay in the proportions I had them in, but I could tell if the meal were much bigger I'd have gotten sick of it.
The roll was good, but come on, that's a roll. Even I knew that was going to be okay. It came with a sweet and sour sauce, the remainder of which I poured on my rice, the covered part of which then sort of became my dessert, tasting awesome as it did.
There was a large painting across the way from me, light colours, storks, paper umbrellas- the kind of thing you'd expect in a chinese restaurant, but still, I liked it.
The table next to mine had this sort of not really couple. This woman who runs her own business and this really big (not with muscle) guy. She talked about how, with the amount of taxes she pays, and the extra work in doing her own book keeping, it doesn't make sense to run your own business. So that's her experience. The guy kept talking about how much of a hypochondriac/"nancy" he is.
Didn't seem the best route to go with impressing his lunch date, but maybe he was doing the self deprecating thing and she was taking it too seriously? That's probably the best case scenario on that one...
I told the proprietor I had a really nice time, and gave a couple bucks tip ("look both ways before crossing the road!"- no, no, I gave money).
***
Last night I went out for my buddy Jimmy's latest stand up show. He was hosting the show with six or seven other performers going up. For the most part they were pretty bad, but when they were terrible I couldn't help but marvel at my friends energy, and his reading of the room between sets. It was like, someone kinda bombed, he'd go up "hey, keep it going for *whatsisname*" clapclapclap and I'd almost feel like the guy leaving the stage deserved the applause.
Uh.. applause? aplause? apple sauce? That's looking weird to me right now. I got it right the first time but... weird.
Heh, usually "weird" looks weird to me. I should probably not think too hard about this.
So my friend killed- it's not easy for him to get a laugh out of me with his set, because I've heard it all before but it never fails, there'll be ONE new joke, or on told in a slightly different way, it'll catch me off guard, and I'll be laughing hard.
I kind of wish I was taking notes during the show, because there were a lot of interesting jokes and storytelling techniques on display that just... need... a little work. There were almost there. Maybe this is true of anything in life, but all the acts were just a hairsbreadth from hilarious. I could tell that with a different delivery, cut a different way, those jokes could've worked.
The first guy was pretty alienating though, sounding (at the most generous) arrogant.
The funniest guy was, hands down, this guy that looked like a crazy homeless guy who had great energy, had no notes, talked fast, was riffing off the (failed) jokes from previous routines. He lost a little steam near the end, but still, great job.
The final act of the night deserves a shout out. I kind of feel like he was disappointed with not getting a lot of laughs during his set- but he had a huge advantage over many of the other acts- he was nice to listen too. He was a good story teller.
He engaged the audience, totally at ease in front of everyone (at least, appearing at ease, which is all we can ask), and seemed really nice.
I had a nice surprise that night, an old friend from high school came out to the show, and I haven't seen him in a couple years.
He's a really cool guy, and back in the days of playing in the band for the school shows, he was one of my favourite things about playing- he's a drummer (well, he's a musician, he doesn't stop at drumming skills) and so I'd have a blast when we'd get to a section that really cooks, I've got my trombone miraculously in the groove, and I'd take a look next to me at my buddy on the drum set going wild, himself smiling and having a blast.
***
Well, anyways, it's Valentine's Day, so I'm going to draw myself a Valentine for humourous purposes. If I actually do it, I'll post it here so you can see the joke.
Well, may as well ease myself into it.
Last Friday (or maybe Thursday- the fact that I'm not sure is really getting me... no, yeah, it was Friday.) I was on lunch break, sauntering down Yonge St., when I came upon "Garlic Peper Szechuan Cuisine and Seafood".
I guess that's the name- I'm going by the take out menu right in front of me.
If I'm buying lunch I don't normally get something a little more exotic (to me) for a couple of reasons. There's the fact that if I'm going to be spending money I want to be sure I'll enjoy the food (experimenting with friends means I'll enjoy the experience regardless... so this is when I'm eating alone) and the other big one is that I try to be health conscious pretty much at all times.
That doesn't mean I'll necessarily eat healthy ALL the time, but I am pretty aware of what I'm eating, I know whether or not it's good for me. With chinese food- man, I've got no idea!
But I was in a good mood, I saw their lunch special was $7.50, a 4 "coures" (ah, sorry, I see they misspelled course on their menu) meal of soup; crispy roll (dude, THAT'S what that's called? Crispy roll? Seems too easy..), entree, and rice or noodles.
So pretty much the only thing I knew was okay for me was the steamed rice. Which I could've had fried.
I was seated in front of the window to the street, which I realized was done to promote business- I know that isn't some great realization, but it's something that came to me during lunch- and I had a lovely time. Relaxing, and getting something not as heavy as McDonald's (had McDonalds the day before, it was kinda gross. My stomach rebelled at repeating the performance two days in a row. Oh, but there were these two adorable kids there that kept staring at me while I ate my chicken nuggets... uh, right, back to the chinese place)
(some space for the reading benefit. let's give you a breath)
I got the food really fast, which was something I didn't let myself hope for. The fish soup was... kinda weird. It and the stuff sauce over the entree were interesting, and okay in the proportions I had them in, but I could tell if the meal were much bigger I'd have gotten sick of it.
The roll was good, but come on, that's a roll. Even I knew that was going to be okay. It came with a sweet and sour sauce, the remainder of which I poured on my rice, the covered part of which then sort of became my dessert, tasting awesome as it did.
There was a large painting across the way from me, light colours, storks, paper umbrellas- the kind of thing you'd expect in a chinese restaurant, but still, I liked it.
The table next to mine had this sort of not really couple. This woman who runs her own business and this really big (not with muscle) guy. She talked about how, with the amount of taxes she pays, and the extra work in doing her own book keeping, it doesn't make sense to run your own business. So that's her experience. The guy kept talking about how much of a hypochondriac/"nancy" he is.
Didn't seem the best route to go with impressing his lunch date, but maybe he was doing the self deprecating thing and she was taking it too seriously? That's probably the best case scenario on that one...
I told the proprietor I had a really nice time, and gave a couple bucks tip ("look both ways before crossing the road!"- no, no, I gave money).
***
Last night I went out for my buddy Jimmy's latest stand up show. He was hosting the show with six or seven other performers going up. For the most part they were pretty bad, but when they were terrible I couldn't help but marvel at my friends energy, and his reading of the room between sets. It was like, someone kinda bombed, he'd go up "hey, keep it going for *whatsisname*" clapclapclap and I'd almost feel like the guy leaving the stage deserved the applause.
Uh.. applause? aplause? apple sauce? That's looking weird to me right now. I got it right the first time but... weird.
Heh, usually "weird" looks weird to me. I should probably not think too hard about this.
So my friend killed- it's not easy for him to get a laugh out of me with his set, because I've heard it all before but it never fails, there'll be ONE new joke, or on told in a slightly different way, it'll catch me off guard, and I'll be laughing hard.
I kind of wish I was taking notes during the show, because there were a lot of interesting jokes and storytelling techniques on display that just... need... a little work. There were almost there. Maybe this is true of anything in life, but all the acts were just a hairsbreadth from hilarious. I could tell that with a different delivery, cut a different way, those jokes could've worked.
The first guy was pretty alienating though, sounding (at the most generous) arrogant.
The funniest guy was, hands down, this guy that looked like a crazy homeless guy who had great energy, had no notes, talked fast, was riffing off the (failed) jokes from previous routines. He lost a little steam near the end, but still, great job.
The final act of the night deserves a shout out. I kind of feel like he was disappointed with not getting a lot of laughs during his set- but he had a huge advantage over many of the other acts- he was nice to listen too. He was a good story teller.
He engaged the audience, totally at ease in front of everyone (at least, appearing at ease, which is all we can ask), and seemed really nice.
I had a nice surprise that night, an old friend from high school came out to the show, and I haven't seen him in a couple years.
He's a really cool guy, and back in the days of playing in the band for the school shows, he was one of my favourite things about playing- he's a drummer (well, he's a musician, he doesn't stop at drumming skills) and so I'd have a blast when we'd get to a section that really cooks, I've got my trombone miraculously in the groove, and I'd take a look next to me at my buddy on the drum set going wild, himself smiling and having a blast.
***
Well, anyways, it's Valentine's Day, so I'm going to draw myself a Valentine for humourous purposes. If I actually do it, I'll post it here so you can see the joke.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Ooh, philomath is dictionary.com's word of the day!
1. A lover of learning; a scholar.
It is precisely for the philomaths that universities ought to cater.
-- Aldous Huxley, Proper Studies
Is "anti valentines day column" a genre unto itself yet? It's that time of year... you know, that sounded like it should have been a title.
Ah well, there was a very sweet pro valentines column in todays Metro paper.
I picked up a huge pile of comics at the library Saturday after another binge of placing holds on things. And today there was more waiting. Good stuff.
Books of note: last night I read "North of 40" where this evil force is unleashed on a hicktown/whole county by a Dungeons and Dragons kid, and this surly goth girl. The cover described it as a new horror comic (not that I'm usually much of a horror guy, my love of Walking Dead notwithstanding) but it very quickly became a super hero book, what with one main character suddenly ending up with "flying brick" powers- flight, strength, nigh-invulnerability.
It bugs me how arbitrary the story's opening seems- the goth girl hates the small town, so to spice things up releases an eldritch evil and mystical curses on the townspeople, resulting in various mutations.
There are... several steps that go before goth girl to crazy evil force.
There's one character that, when she first appears, is on the run from some guys that are trying to assault her, who think they can get away with it because she's half black. With that kind of trauma, I could easily see her release that evilness, even if she only wanted to do that for a moment, or didn't fully realize what she was doing.
But the character that actually does it, we aren't shown WHY she's the way she is.
Even that would be okay, she could just be REALLY evil. End of story, she's evil. Fair enough- but then I don't buy the D&D kid being in love with her, especially since he's shown to be good, manipulating the crazy powered forces to get some heroes around (mostly that "flying brick" character)... or if not "good" necessarily, then definitely "idealistic".
The creators (written by Aaron Williams, great art by Fiona Staples) jumped the gun, creating a great status quo by sacrificing a good reason for that status quo.
That said, the old Sheriff is awesome. He looks like (the jury's still out on whether he his) an old man in a cowboy hat, but when the guy he arrested last night suddenly gets super strength and the Sheriff's got bupkis- he doesn't even blink, keeps talking tough, then proceeds to point his gun at the guys scumy (and vulnerable) brother... or relative or something.
And when the bad dudes try to straight up ambush him- the Sheriff STILL keeps his cool, and proceeds to immediately turn the tables on them again. Again, I say, awesome.
It is precisely for the philomaths that universities ought to cater.
-- Aldous Huxley, Proper Studies
Is "anti valentines day column" a genre unto itself yet? It's that time of year... you know, that sounded like it should have been a title.
Ah well, there was a very sweet pro valentines column in todays Metro paper.
I picked up a huge pile of comics at the library Saturday after another binge of placing holds on things. And today there was more waiting. Good stuff.
Books of note: last night I read "North of 40" where this evil force is unleashed on a hicktown/whole county by a Dungeons and Dragons kid, and this surly goth girl. The cover described it as a new horror comic (not that I'm usually much of a horror guy, my love of Walking Dead notwithstanding) but it very quickly became a super hero book, what with one main character suddenly ending up with "flying brick" powers- flight, strength, nigh-invulnerability.
It bugs me how arbitrary the story's opening seems- the goth girl hates the small town, so to spice things up releases an eldritch evil and mystical curses on the townspeople, resulting in various mutations.
There are... several steps that go before goth girl to crazy evil force.
There's one character that, when she first appears, is on the run from some guys that are trying to assault her, who think they can get away with it because she's half black. With that kind of trauma, I could easily see her release that evilness, even if she only wanted to do that for a moment, or didn't fully realize what she was doing.
But the character that actually does it, we aren't shown WHY she's the way she is.
Even that would be okay, she could just be REALLY evil. End of story, she's evil. Fair enough- but then I don't buy the D&D kid being in love with her, especially since he's shown to be good, manipulating the crazy powered forces to get some heroes around (mostly that "flying brick" character)... or if not "good" necessarily, then definitely "idealistic".
The creators (written by Aaron Williams, great art by Fiona Staples) jumped the gun, creating a great status quo by sacrificing a good reason for that status quo.
That said, the old Sheriff is awesome. He looks like (the jury's still out on whether he his) an old man in a cowboy hat, but when the guy he arrested last night suddenly gets super strength and the Sheriff's got bupkis- he doesn't even blink, keeps talking tough, then proceeds to point his gun at the guys scumy (and vulnerable) brother... or relative or something.
And when the bad dudes try to straight up ambush him- the Sheriff STILL keeps his cool, and proceeds to immediately turn the tables on them again. Again, I say, awesome.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
SPOILERS all I do here is spoil One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Spoilers.
Blasted through the last hundred pages of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest today.
I may have mentioned this already, but the use of the silent Chief as a first person narrator of the book is amazing. It's like a regular narrator that grows into a character interacting with everyone else in the book. A more rational meta narrative effort... by which I mean something more palatable to a regular audience, but still allows for that particular reading.
The protagonist, McMurphy, has a great character arc through the book. He starts off commited in the hospital, big and full of life, surrounded by all of the cowed men on the ward, and he can't get what the problem is with them.
In fact the patients problems are two fold, and neither of which McMurphy immediately appreciates. There's the effect of Nurse Ratched's domineering power (she's just a woman guys!) and the very real mental problems the patients are dealing with.
Before I started reading this book I read SOMEWHERE that the mental illnesses contained here were treated as a non-issue. I don't know what that person was reading. Though the effects of mental illness were described as more subtle than you may expect, they were also more pervasive, when it's suggested that McMurphy really is a sort of crazy.
I wrote down this idea from page 140- I didn't quote it down exactly, but it amounts to 'McMurphy didn't let how he looked- the role he was "assigned" in life- order him around. He's his own man.'
This is a huge part of the novel, revealing the truth that people are more than what they appear, and often contradictory at that. McMurphy, despite his brash, brawling, big persona, can paint and wrote letters in "a lovely flowing hand". He didn't allow the fact that those things didn't fit in with the immediate narrative that is MCMURPHY deter him. But it was that confidence that fed back in on itself, and all of a sudden those odd other parts WERE McMurphy, and it makes total sense.
The first bit of action comes when McMurphy realizes that Ratched is behind the lack of spirit on the ward, an idea that the men get behind after some needling. So McMurphy leads the charge, getting increased room for playing cards and getting under the Nurse's skin- making sure never to go so far as to warrant electro shock treatment, and thus avoiding the power of Ratched's full retribution.
Or so he thinks.
It isn't until a trip to the pool, where an old football player who thinks he's just a couple of weeks from getting back on the field (as he's thought for a long time now) moonlights as the lifeguard (I still don't know how that works) and informs McMurphy that Ratched has the power to extend a stay at the hospital.
At least in jail you knew when you were getting out. And forget the electroshock, this was Ratched's true power, at least over McMurphy.
So McMurphy quiets down, plays by the rules, and "get's sly". He eventually calls out the other patients for letting him be the fall guy, asking for other stuff, being the voice for the revolution, and the brunt of ultimate retribution. There's never any hard feelings about it, McMurphy even finds it funny, the con man getting conned, and by a ward of hospital patients. But then he's told something that really surprises him.
He's not on equal footing with the other patients around him- he's worse off! Most of them are voluntary patients, and could leave at any time. Not him, he's stuck.
McMurphy begins to realize these patients are more different from him than he'd previously thought.
He begins to act up again, only much worse than before, seemingly no longer worried about the electro shock OR release. He arranges a boat trip for a few inmates (asking sweet as you please to the nurse), driving down with this girl Candy and one of the Doctors, who was pretty easy to convince to come along, what with Candy around.
The trip is notable for how much laughter and life brought out of all of the parties, everyone has a great time, even the germaphobe 'rub a dub' George. On the trip back everything still seems great, McMurphy is soothing the crowd with his stories of a life fully lived, but a quick glimmer of light (from either the moon or a streetlight or something) flashes on him, and the narrator sees how tired and strained he looks.
I think it was still on the trip home that McMurphy arranges a date between Candy and Billy Bibbit for 2am in two weeks on the saturday night. So that's something to look foreward to.
For cruelty's sake more than anything, the members of the boat trip are subjected to a sanitizing shower with some strange delousing agent hosed onto each man. Mostly a fair enough proposition, but when they come up to George, he's terrified of whatever is being put on them. As George is freaking out McMurphy steps up to get the guys with the hose to back off- which they don't, they're having a great time.
So McMurphy takes his sweet time beating the guy- taking his time to enjoy it, because he knows after this he's getting moved up to the disturbed ward, and a step away from the electro shock. When one of the other attendants steps forward to help his coworker, the narrator/Chief lends a hand. So both McMurphy and the narrator get sent up to disturbed.
I've gotta say, how the relationship between McMurphy and the narrator progressed so that the Chief would help out, instead of being "lost in the fog" was awesome. From the point at the beginning where McMurphy is the only one to figure the Chief CAN hear and speak, despite what people think, to his growing admiration of McMurphy, to them actually speaking to each other, and McMurphy promising to make the Chief 'big' again... and he was certainly a mountain of a man by the time that fight in the shower took place.
It's not long before the two of them do get sent for electro shock. McMurphy was offered the chance to apologize to Nurse Ratched and avoid the whole thing, but that wasn't happening. He martyrs himself to give a larger than life figure for the boys on the ward dowstairs, but wouldn't you know it- he made it through the elctro shock alright!
In fact, he gets sent back again and again, keeping up his bravado the whole time, and by the time he does return "home" to the regular ward, he's a legend!
And good news- it's almost been two weeks, time for Candy to come back!
Now, I didn't expect that two week date to still be something they'd get to in story, but apparently you can fit in a lot of electro shock and recovery and electro shock and recovery in the span of two weeks. In fact, the whole timeline of the book surprises me this way. It feels like in most books this story would take place over the course of a year at least, but it may have only been a few months. It's an odd bit of pacing.
So they convince the night guy to open the window, and in comes Candy and Sandy for a night of partying. They make a huge mess, everyone gets drunk, Billy Bibbit and Candy get a room, and McMurphy says his good byes, because after an hour of sleep he's outta there.
Which felt weird, as far as endings go... incomplete... and then what about all those extra pages after... oh I see they slept in and didn't escape and now they're in tru-uble.
All of the inmates are having a great time, laughing at all of the evidence of their crimes, especially once Ratched opens the door to find Billy and Candy in a secluded room, but Ratched turns the 'for shame, so disappointed in you, I'm telling your mother' weapon on Billy, whose stutter immediately turns up to 11, and starts saying it was Candy's fault, it was McMurphy's fault, it was everyone else's fault.
It felt like such a huge betrayal! How could Billy do that?
But this is when it's clear, he truly wasn't ready, his illness was still enough to leave him susceptible to Ratched, so much so that when he's left alone in the Doctors office (and it's only RIGHT NOW that this is so clearly about to happen) that he kills himself.
McMurphy could have still snuck out, as was mentioned a few pages before (and I wouldn've this mentioned here, but I didn't find a good place to mention it) but when McMurphy was saying his good byes he discussed with Harding the source of mental illness. Harding's theory was that, for him anyways, it was not his being gay (not that they ever out and out say that exactly, but they as much as said it), but the level of shame and ostracization from society that was bred from his being gay.
But that wasn't what made McMurphy crazy (he wasn't crazy before he was committed, and he was never crazy in any stereotypical way): McMurphy, Harding says, is crazy because of "us". The other patients at the hospital. McMurphy has a desire to help out his inmates that isn't rational, because it isn't self serving... no matter what McMurphy's gambling winnings and other screens would have you think, he isn't really gaining anything by staying.
ANYway, after Billy kills himself, McMurphy does the only thing left to him, breaking through the glass and attacking Ratched, and making her lose any power over the other inmates. After she's back, unable to communicate but through a notepad for now, she's an object of derision on the ward, everybody laughs at her now.
She plays her last card, returning the post lobotomy McMurphy back on the ward- but even then she's subverted. The Chief has taken on McMurphy's spirit- the once apparently mute guy is now the one brashly asserting that that ain't McMurphy! Before the swelling can go down, and the legend of McMurhpy can be tarnished, the Chief suffocates him with a pillow.
The Chief tries on McMurphy's hat, which of course would have been to pat had it fit perfectly when he made his escape. McMurphy is McMurphy, 'Chief' Bromden is himself, and so the hat was too small for him.
So most of the inmates decided their time was up and left, the ones who were ready, and Chief Bromden, the narrator, made a Herculean move, lifting up this one control case (that had previously been made out to be impossible for anyone to lift... anyone beside the mountainous narrator) and busting out of the mesh encased window.
I liked this book a lot, I wish I'd written it up better here, put things in a better order, told you about when McMurphy tried to lift that control case himself ("At least I tried!") and I probably should have called the narrator Bromden instead of Chief. It's a book that sticks closely to the action, as though it were a script with stage directions. It somehow completely avoids extraneous prose while also not feeling as spartan as old Hemingway (I should really take a look at that guys oeuvre for comparison, not just relying on my old prejudices. Even though they are really fun prejudices.), it feels like it ends a few times before it actually does, but when it does, it all comes together in the way that a story has to.
And I'm thinking I'm going to go ahead and post this now, I kinda wrote a lot, so I'll catch my typos later.
I may have mentioned this already, but the use of the silent Chief as a first person narrator of the book is amazing. It's like a regular narrator that grows into a character interacting with everyone else in the book. A more rational meta narrative effort... by which I mean something more palatable to a regular audience, but still allows for that particular reading.
The protagonist, McMurphy, has a great character arc through the book. He starts off commited in the hospital, big and full of life, surrounded by all of the cowed men on the ward, and he can't get what the problem is with them.
In fact the patients problems are two fold, and neither of which McMurphy immediately appreciates. There's the effect of Nurse Ratched's domineering power (she's just a woman guys!) and the very real mental problems the patients are dealing with.
Before I started reading this book I read SOMEWHERE that the mental illnesses contained here were treated as a non-issue. I don't know what that person was reading. Though the effects of mental illness were described as more subtle than you may expect, they were also more pervasive, when it's suggested that McMurphy really is a sort of crazy.
I wrote down this idea from page 140- I didn't quote it down exactly, but it amounts to 'McMurphy didn't let how he looked- the role he was "assigned" in life- order him around. He's his own man.'
This is a huge part of the novel, revealing the truth that people are more than what they appear, and often contradictory at that. McMurphy, despite his brash, brawling, big persona, can paint and wrote letters in "a lovely flowing hand". He didn't allow the fact that those things didn't fit in with the immediate narrative that is MCMURPHY deter him. But it was that confidence that fed back in on itself, and all of a sudden those odd other parts WERE McMurphy, and it makes total sense.
The first bit of action comes when McMurphy realizes that Ratched is behind the lack of spirit on the ward, an idea that the men get behind after some needling. So McMurphy leads the charge, getting increased room for playing cards and getting under the Nurse's skin- making sure never to go so far as to warrant electro shock treatment, and thus avoiding the power of Ratched's full retribution.
Or so he thinks.
It isn't until a trip to the pool, where an old football player who thinks he's just a couple of weeks from getting back on the field (as he's thought for a long time now) moonlights as the lifeguard (I still don't know how that works) and informs McMurphy that Ratched has the power to extend a stay at the hospital.
At least in jail you knew when you were getting out. And forget the electroshock, this was Ratched's true power, at least over McMurphy.
So McMurphy quiets down, plays by the rules, and "get's sly". He eventually calls out the other patients for letting him be the fall guy, asking for other stuff, being the voice for the revolution, and the brunt of ultimate retribution. There's never any hard feelings about it, McMurphy even finds it funny, the con man getting conned, and by a ward of hospital patients. But then he's told something that really surprises him.
He's not on equal footing with the other patients around him- he's worse off! Most of them are voluntary patients, and could leave at any time. Not him, he's stuck.
McMurphy begins to realize these patients are more different from him than he'd previously thought.
He begins to act up again, only much worse than before, seemingly no longer worried about the electro shock OR release. He arranges a boat trip for a few inmates (asking sweet as you please to the nurse), driving down with this girl Candy and one of the Doctors, who was pretty easy to convince to come along, what with Candy around.
The trip is notable for how much laughter and life brought out of all of the parties, everyone has a great time, even the germaphobe 'rub a dub' George. On the trip back everything still seems great, McMurphy is soothing the crowd with his stories of a life fully lived, but a quick glimmer of light (from either the moon or a streetlight or something) flashes on him, and the narrator sees how tired and strained he looks.
I think it was still on the trip home that McMurphy arranges a date between Candy and Billy Bibbit for 2am in two weeks on the saturday night. So that's something to look foreward to.
For cruelty's sake more than anything, the members of the boat trip are subjected to a sanitizing shower with some strange delousing agent hosed onto each man. Mostly a fair enough proposition, but when they come up to George, he's terrified of whatever is being put on them. As George is freaking out McMurphy steps up to get the guys with the hose to back off- which they don't, they're having a great time.
So McMurphy takes his sweet time beating the guy- taking his time to enjoy it, because he knows after this he's getting moved up to the disturbed ward, and a step away from the electro shock. When one of the other attendants steps forward to help his coworker, the narrator/Chief lends a hand. So both McMurphy and the narrator get sent up to disturbed.
I've gotta say, how the relationship between McMurphy and the narrator progressed so that the Chief would help out, instead of being "lost in the fog" was awesome. From the point at the beginning where McMurphy is the only one to figure the Chief CAN hear and speak, despite what people think, to his growing admiration of McMurphy, to them actually speaking to each other, and McMurphy promising to make the Chief 'big' again... and he was certainly a mountain of a man by the time that fight in the shower took place.
It's not long before the two of them do get sent for electro shock. McMurphy was offered the chance to apologize to Nurse Ratched and avoid the whole thing, but that wasn't happening. He martyrs himself to give a larger than life figure for the boys on the ward dowstairs, but wouldn't you know it- he made it through the elctro shock alright!
In fact, he gets sent back again and again, keeping up his bravado the whole time, and by the time he does return "home" to the regular ward, he's a legend!
And good news- it's almost been two weeks, time for Candy to come back!
Now, I didn't expect that two week date to still be something they'd get to in story, but apparently you can fit in a lot of electro shock and recovery and electro shock and recovery in the span of two weeks. In fact, the whole timeline of the book surprises me this way. It feels like in most books this story would take place over the course of a year at least, but it may have only been a few months. It's an odd bit of pacing.
So they convince the night guy to open the window, and in comes Candy and Sandy for a night of partying. They make a huge mess, everyone gets drunk, Billy Bibbit and Candy get a room, and McMurphy says his good byes, because after an hour of sleep he's outta there.
Which felt weird, as far as endings go... incomplete... and then what about all those extra pages after... oh I see they slept in and didn't escape and now they're in tru-uble.
All of the inmates are having a great time, laughing at all of the evidence of their crimes, especially once Ratched opens the door to find Billy and Candy in a secluded room, but Ratched turns the 'for shame, so disappointed in you, I'm telling your mother' weapon on Billy, whose stutter immediately turns up to 11, and starts saying it was Candy's fault, it was McMurphy's fault, it was everyone else's fault.
It felt like such a huge betrayal! How could Billy do that?
But this is when it's clear, he truly wasn't ready, his illness was still enough to leave him susceptible to Ratched, so much so that when he's left alone in the Doctors office (and it's only RIGHT NOW that this is so clearly about to happen) that he kills himself.
McMurphy could have still snuck out, as was mentioned a few pages before (and I wouldn've this mentioned here, but I didn't find a good place to mention it) but when McMurphy was saying his good byes he discussed with Harding the source of mental illness. Harding's theory was that, for him anyways, it was not his being gay (not that they ever out and out say that exactly, but they as much as said it), but the level of shame and ostracization from society that was bred from his being gay.
But that wasn't what made McMurphy crazy (he wasn't crazy before he was committed, and he was never crazy in any stereotypical way): McMurphy, Harding says, is crazy because of "us". The other patients at the hospital. McMurphy has a desire to help out his inmates that isn't rational, because it isn't self serving... no matter what McMurphy's gambling winnings and other screens would have you think, he isn't really gaining anything by staying.
ANYway, after Billy kills himself, McMurphy does the only thing left to him, breaking through the glass and attacking Ratched, and making her lose any power over the other inmates. After she's back, unable to communicate but through a notepad for now, she's an object of derision on the ward, everybody laughs at her now.
She plays her last card, returning the post lobotomy McMurphy back on the ward- but even then she's subverted. The Chief has taken on McMurphy's spirit- the once apparently mute guy is now the one brashly asserting that that ain't McMurphy! Before the swelling can go down, and the legend of McMurhpy can be tarnished, the Chief suffocates him with a pillow.
The Chief tries on McMurphy's hat, which of course would have been to pat had it fit perfectly when he made his escape. McMurphy is McMurphy, 'Chief' Bromden is himself, and so the hat was too small for him.
So most of the inmates decided their time was up and left, the ones who were ready, and Chief Bromden, the narrator, made a Herculean move, lifting up this one control case (that had previously been made out to be impossible for anyone to lift... anyone beside the mountainous narrator) and busting out of the mesh encased window.
I liked this book a lot, I wish I'd written it up better here, put things in a better order, told you about when McMurphy tried to lift that control case himself ("At least I tried!") and I probably should have called the narrator Bromden instead of Chief. It's a book that sticks closely to the action, as though it were a script with stage directions. It somehow completely avoids extraneous prose while also not feeling as spartan as old Hemingway (I should really take a look at that guys oeuvre for comparison, not just relying on my old prejudices. Even though they are really fun prejudices.), it feels like it ends a few times before it actually does, but when it does, it all comes together in the way that a story has to.
And I'm thinking I'm going to go ahead and post this now, I kinda wrote a lot, so I'll catch my typos later.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Where I talk about the usage based billing stuff and sound crazy while doing it. There's a Star Trek reference! (only one though)
I know a bunch of people (and likely if you're Canadian and/or living in the Greater Toronto area, so do you)who are going downtown today for the rally against usage based billing on their internet access.
I haven't brought this up anywhere else yet- because I don't need to go looking for a fight- but I can't really take this cause seriously.
The people I hear the most about this from are also the most frivolous users of the internet. The news report I saw on the situation had a couple of young gamers describing the fact that when they aren't on their X-Box online, then they were streaming movies to watch- that they couldn't imagine their lives without their unlimited access. Then there was a gentleman who ran a business at home, whose needs are actually legitimate, but simply didn't sell his position. It didn't sound like he'd be hurt all that bad, in spite of what he actually said.
Could be it was a report designed to make the protesters look ridiculous, or more likely a case of slapdash "anyone know ANYONE that'll go on camera about this?" reporting.
I hear from environmentalists about how the cost for the electricity and water we enjoy in this country is, what, roughly double what we actually pay (man, I'm just guessing, I totally forget... it's more than what we pay, okay?)- but they can't raise the prices because the people feel entitled, and to even mention it to any serious extent would be political suicide.
I do enjoy the current cost of things, and yes, I take advantage of it, but if someone were to say to me "okay, now you have to pay the ACTUAL cost" I would ultimately be okay with that. If for no other reason than it would help teach me (and others) conservation and appreciation.
All that said, it sure does sound like I'm against the Usage Based Billing protestors, doesn't it? Well, that isn't the case.
Even I, with my limited computer knowledge, can appreciate the scale difference of going from uhhh my mind just blanked on the numbers AND units... like 250 sprazillion to only 25 brazillian fiber optics-
I'm probably hurting my credibility using such goofy words for the units, but it made me smile, and really, units are just words, placeholder ideas for other ideas/realities.
Anyway, it's a huge difference. And while there's a case for more electricity controls- say the blackouts that happen during the summer due to over taxing of the system, with less frivolous electricity use we can keep the power we need (for the elderly and sick for example) with less chance of losing it at the worst possible time. A market based series of restrictions (higher cost) is one way too achieve that. I'd rather we just turned things off on our own accord, but seeing as I doubt that'll happen, higher pricing is one solution.
But go back to the internet problem... well, there really isn't any. At least none that the major service providers will admit to. I seem to recall back in the earliest days of the last decade people talking about systems not being able to handle the number of people surfing the web, but I haven't heard anything like this (outside of cyber-rebellion) for a long time- whch makes sense, given the leaps in technology we've achieved (we... as if I did anything. I'll make a computer engineer a sandwich. "Okay, you're a sandwich!").
Considering that, here's one scenario where the proposed usage based billing increase is (moderately) okay: the various internet providers have reached their limit, none can offer more 'internetz' because as it stands "she can nay take anymore" and if ANY provider admited to this problem their users would jump ship to another group. The potential loss of subscribers to one provider versus the potential gain in subscribers to another is too great a financial incentive for these bottom line businesses to admit to anything, when they're ALL feeling the strain.
So they ALL go to a governing body- the CRTC- to be the bad guy. "Sorry folks, gotta take more money from ya." This solves the entire problem, giving some slack on the number of users and getting money to improve infrastructure. Of course it LOOKS like a simple cash grab.
Still, that's a shady bit of price fixing, a slippery slope at the hills bottom to monopoly.
But yes, THAT was the good scenario- where the parties involved feel they can't be honest without being taken advantage of and therefore attempt to take advantage of others preemptively.
The simplest and most likely scenario is that it is just a cash grab. And that's no good in my books.
If I have to choose between corrupt cash counters or LOLing layabouts- I'll choose the latter.
Now get off my lawn or I'll bean you with alliteration!
Lousy kids with their pet rocks and tamagucci's...
I haven't brought this up anywhere else yet- because I don't need to go looking for a fight- but I can't really take this cause seriously.
The people I hear the most about this from are also the most frivolous users of the internet. The news report I saw on the situation had a couple of young gamers describing the fact that when they aren't on their X-Box online, then they were streaming movies to watch- that they couldn't imagine their lives without their unlimited access. Then there was a gentleman who ran a business at home, whose needs are actually legitimate, but simply didn't sell his position. It didn't sound like he'd be hurt all that bad, in spite of what he actually said.
Could be it was a report designed to make the protesters look ridiculous, or more likely a case of slapdash "anyone know ANYONE that'll go on camera about this?" reporting.
I hear from environmentalists about how the cost for the electricity and water we enjoy in this country is, what, roughly double what we actually pay (man, I'm just guessing, I totally forget... it's more than what we pay, okay?)- but they can't raise the prices because the people feel entitled, and to even mention it to any serious extent would be political suicide.
I do enjoy the current cost of things, and yes, I take advantage of it, but if someone were to say to me "okay, now you have to pay the ACTUAL cost" I would ultimately be okay with that. If for no other reason than it would help teach me (and others) conservation and appreciation.
All that said, it sure does sound like I'm against the Usage Based Billing protestors, doesn't it? Well, that isn't the case.
Even I, with my limited computer knowledge, can appreciate the scale difference of going from uhhh my mind just blanked on the numbers AND units... like 250 sprazillion to only 25 brazillian fiber optics-
I'm probably hurting my credibility using such goofy words for the units, but it made me smile, and really, units are just words, placeholder ideas for other ideas/realities.
Anyway, it's a huge difference. And while there's a case for more electricity controls- say the blackouts that happen during the summer due to over taxing of the system, with less frivolous electricity use we can keep the power we need (for the elderly and sick for example) with less chance of losing it at the worst possible time. A market based series of restrictions (higher cost) is one way too achieve that. I'd rather we just turned things off on our own accord, but seeing as I doubt that'll happen, higher pricing is one solution.
But go back to the internet problem... well, there really isn't any. At least none that the major service providers will admit to. I seem to recall back in the earliest days of the last decade people talking about systems not being able to handle the number of people surfing the web, but I haven't heard anything like this (outside of cyber-rebellion) for a long time- whch makes sense, given the leaps in technology we've achieved (we... as if I did anything. I'll make a computer engineer a sandwich. "Okay, you're a sandwich!").
Considering that, here's one scenario where the proposed usage based billing increase is (moderately) okay: the various internet providers have reached their limit, none can offer more 'internetz' because as it stands "she can nay take anymore" and if ANY provider admited to this problem their users would jump ship to another group. The potential loss of subscribers to one provider versus the potential gain in subscribers to another is too great a financial incentive for these bottom line businesses to admit to anything, when they're ALL feeling the strain.
So they ALL go to a governing body- the CRTC- to be the bad guy. "Sorry folks, gotta take more money from ya." This solves the entire problem, giving some slack on the number of users and getting money to improve infrastructure. Of course it LOOKS like a simple cash grab.
Still, that's a shady bit of price fixing, a slippery slope at the hills bottom to monopoly.
But yes, THAT was the good scenario- where the parties involved feel they can't be honest without being taken advantage of and therefore attempt to take advantage of others preemptively.
The simplest and most likely scenario is that it is just a cash grab. And that's no good in my books.
If I have to choose between corrupt cash counters or LOLing layabouts- I'll choose the latter.
Now get off my lawn or I'll bean you with alliteration!
Lousy kids with their pet rocks and tamagucci's...
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Cuckoo's Nest first look
First of February, better get a jump on these posts here, it's a short month after all (but HOW short is it? Who knows... now I do, looked over at the calender.)
Yesterday was a bit of an adventure, I went and signed on for security guard training, a course that cost me a pretty penny. That plus a metropass has wiped me out at the bank again, and I start the training this coming monday.
It'll be good to improve my skills (CPR/first aid again- I did it in 2006 but pretty much immediately forgot everything), and the guarantee of work is nice (assuming I pass the licensing process- a relatively small gamble, but it's still got me on edge), but I keep thinking about that one character at the begining of The Grapes of Wrath who came and took over everyones land because the bank forclosed on the property, and he took the traitorous position of mechanically farming everything himself. Because it may as well be him.
Well, speaking of books, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a pretty great read. First it has the benefit of being a print from I'm guessing the late 80's early 90's which gives the paper that necessary time to ferment into a full on tome, with that requisite mustiness that always takes me back to my days of sitting alone on the paved so-called playground over in New Westminster British Columbia with one of my inherited Star Wars novels, back when I was always itching to get back to the Luke parts-
(definitely not true for, what was it... the Crystal Star? Luke was a total jerk in that one. Some force thing was getting his goat. Han was all "chill out buddy", and Leia had this great part were she met this being who refused to reveal her name because "names have power" which I have always found to be amazingly true, and why I do my best to remember peoples names.)
- but beyond my sensory enjoyment of Ken Kesey's novel itself- there's a story too! It has this cartoony sensibility of the world it describes, which takes a step away from the purely allegorical when you remember that this is a first person narration- it doesn't come up much, but it's true, and there's a reason this man is in a mental institution- he is crazy.
Helping the effect is the fact that I've just been reading it chapter by chapter before going to bed each night- I have to drowsily re-read a lot of paragraphs to make sense of what's going on. It's actually an effective way to get in the same mind set as the narrator, though that wasn't my intention starting out.
And it was a nice change of pace, getting out yesterday, and doing some wide awake transit reading. I got through a bunch more pages that way.
I ran into a friend who I see only on special occasions, she showed me her cubicled work space, and it was pretty amazing to me. She had a cabinet full of, I don't know, five little apple sauce containers. As we parted she said, "I guess I'll see you this summer and/or winter (at one of our mutual friends annual parties)."
Kind of a cynical thing to say. Also, very true.
I like her for that- not many people can say that kind of thing completely devoid of mean spiritedness or bitterness in their voice.
While hanging out I made jokes about Rick Astley and Jersey Shore, neither of which hit home... so I pretty much looked like a pop culture idiot as usual. Maybe I should have clarified that I have never actually watched Jersey Shore? Eh, that'd come across as defensive then elitist. So fine, I'm stuck.
I went to the Eaton Centre Chapters and read comics for hours. I even took a seat for a comic or two! I thought about giving some downtown people a call to hang out for a bit, go on a rare visit, but decided I'd had enough for the day.
Came home to a rearranged kitchen and messed up bedroom. Usually dad restricts his feng shui to the living room and his bedroom. The kitchen was a surprise. So now I've got a new counter thing in my room, by an outlet, that lets me plug in my tv for the first time in... well, months at least.
While fixing my room I got to watch Hawaii 5-O. Good show, if it wasn't on at the same time as Castle I'd watch it all the time.
It's funny- you see Chicago, New York, Miami, Las Vegas (you know, the CSI's) and I have no interest in them, not really. But Hawaii- I like Hawaii. I can actually long for that place. Which is kind of ridiculous of me, but it's cool too. I know loads of people that dream of New York, the city that never sleeps.
I like sleep! I try to do it on a daily basis!
Yesterday was a bit of an adventure, I went and signed on for security guard training, a course that cost me a pretty penny. That plus a metropass has wiped me out at the bank again, and I start the training this coming monday.
It'll be good to improve my skills (CPR/first aid again- I did it in 2006 but pretty much immediately forgot everything), and the guarantee of work is nice (assuming I pass the licensing process- a relatively small gamble, but it's still got me on edge), but I keep thinking about that one character at the begining of The Grapes of Wrath who came and took over everyones land because the bank forclosed on the property, and he took the traitorous position of mechanically farming everything himself. Because it may as well be him.
Well, speaking of books, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a pretty great read. First it has the benefit of being a print from I'm guessing the late 80's early 90's which gives the paper that necessary time to ferment into a full on tome, with that requisite mustiness that always takes me back to my days of sitting alone on the paved so-called playground over in New Westminster British Columbia with one of my inherited Star Wars novels, back when I was always itching to get back to the Luke parts-
(definitely not true for, what was it... the Crystal Star? Luke was a total jerk in that one. Some force thing was getting his goat. Han was all "chill out buddy", and Leia had this great part were she met this being who refused to reveal her name because "names have power" which I have always found to be amazingly true, and why I do my best to remember peoples names.)
- but beyond my sensory enjoyment of Ken Kesey's novel itself- there's a story too! It has this cartoony sensibility of the world it describes, which takes a step away from the purely allegorical when you remember that this is a first person narration- it doesn't come up much, but it's true, and there's a reason this man is in a mental institution- he is crazy.
Helping the effect is the fact that I've just been reading it chapter by chapter before going to bed each night- I have to drowsily re-read a lot of paragraphs to make sense of what's going on. It's actually an effective way to get in the same mind set as the narrator, though that wasn't my intention starting out.
And it was a nice change of pace, getting out yesterday, and doing some wide awake transit reading. I got through a bunch more pages that way.
I ran into a friend who I see only on special occasions, she showed me her cubicled work space, and it was pretty amazing to me. She had a cabinet full of, I don't know, five little apple sauce containers. As we parted she said, "I guess I'll see you this summer and/or winter (at one of our mutual friends annual parties)."
Kind of a cynical thing to say. Also, very true.
I like her for that- not many people can say that kind of thing completely devoid of mean spiritedness or bitterness in their voice.
While hanging out I made jokes about Rick Astley and Jersey Shore, neither of which hit home... so I pretty much looked like a pop culture idiot as usual. Maybe I should have clarified that I have never actually watched Jersey Shore? Eh, that'd come across as defensive then elitist. So fine, I'm stuck.
I went to the Eaton Centre Chapters and read comics for hours. I even took a seat for a comic or two! I thought about giving some downtown people a call to hang out for a bit, go on a rare visit, but decided I'd had enough for the day.
Came home to a rearranged kitchen and messed up bedroom. Usually dad restricts his feng shui to the living room and his bedroom. The kitchen was a surprise. So now I've got a new counter thing in my room, by an outlet, that lets me plug in my tv for the first time in... well, months at least.
While fixing my room I got to watch Hawaii 5-O. Good show, if it wasn't on at the same time as Castle I'd watch it all the time.
It's funny- you see Chicago, New York, Miami, Las Vegas (you know, the CSI's) and I have no interest in them, not really. But Hawaii- I like Hawaii. I can actually long for that place. Which is kind of ridiculous of me, but it's cool too. I know loads of people that dream of New York, the city that never sleeps.
I like sleep! I try to do it on a daily basis!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
