Resurfacing

Summer 2009:

Rainstorms

Chopin

Arizona Iced Tea

PostSecret

Jeff Buckley

Facebook

Theories of the secret

Arcade Fire

Fantasizing about Jake Gyllenhaal

Red seedless grapes

Tarot readings

Frozen dinners

Bitch Magazine

Weeds

Whose Line Is It Anyway

Goddamn Hamilton Buses

Pinback

Documentaries on human consciousness

Theories of Confessional Culture

Mold

Nine Inch Nails

Repeated "vasovagal response" episodes

Don Dellilo

Theories of Emotion

Gorillaz

The best cat in the universe

Awkwardness

Dusty shelves

Sigur Ros

Daily Show / Colbert Report

Theories of Politicization

Zoning out too often

Loneliness

Crisp, cold green apples

Portishead

Documentaries on quantum physics

Trying to write

Mango smoothies

Feeling proud of myself

NOW Magazine website

Theories of the Archive

Masquerade

Thunder and lightning

Fantasizing about Ryan Reynolds

Feist

Not enough laughter

Massive gratefulness for good friends

True Blood

Theories of Therapeutic Culture

Refusing to clean up after other people

Astrology readings

Fantasizing about Shane from the L Word

Writing

Curve

Theories of why the hell I can't seem to write anything decent

Disappointment

Raw nerves

Tool

Theories of Affect

Trying to think

The silence of this room at 4 am

Realizing that this MA is actually meant to break you

Not feeling any better after that realization

Heart palpitations

Fleeting inspiration, and no pens

Dreams of subheadings and transition statements

Glimpses of everything fitting together

Staying up for 40 hours straight

Writing the last sentence, a sense of calm

Perspective

Plotting my escape...

Moment To Moment, I Can't Keep It Straight; Day By Day, It All Seems Too Late

I'm finished coursework for my MA. Finally. A brutal year. Papers I wrote this term:

• On the (Im)Possibility of an Archive of Everyday Life: Auto-Ethnography and the New Media Economy

• Scientific Spirituality, Spiritual Science: Quantum Consciousness and Existential Metaphor

• Visions of Social Change: Possibility, Political Practice and the Media

And now it's time to start thinking about the major research project. Hmm.

The first (hopefully annual) Grad Student Cabaret was on Friday, organized by some people in our department. It was kind of a variety show - there is a pile of talent in our department: musical, poetic, dramatic, etc. It was a great evening.



Abigail and Amanda, singing.

CSI meets Shakespeare (Lady McBeth being the murderer). Shar was fantastic as Horatio Cane - she got the dramatic sunglasses down pat.

Lisa and Adrienne reciting selected parts of the Vagina Monologues: Lisa did angry vagina, Adrienne did 'cunt'.

Asha reciting a fantasticly hilarious poem entitled "I dated an activist boy".

Phanuel reciting selected poems - they were amazing, intense. You could feel him bearing the impact of his words all over again as he read.


Asha looking a little pervy, according to Vinh (right, in his nouveaux-Thriller jacket).

Adrienne and Amanda, who organized the cabaret. Good times.

* * *

The weather is finicky and chilled; my sense of what real relaxation is keeps shifting, won't settle or offer any inspiration.

I moved upstairs on May 1st, after I dropped off my last paper (a late finish).
The basement flooded four days before that (goddamn washer hose). Not too much damage though.

Now that I'm in a human-sized room, I feel a little better. Things are somehow new and different but still the same, which is conforting I suppose.

Pics of my new abode are forthcoming.

Happy Easter!

These commercials make me laugh every time - I think the typewriter is my favourite.

Make sure to watch the finale!

"Toronto and Antony Share Three Letters"

Over reading week I saw Antony and The Johnsons in Toronto with Lisa.

He has the most amazing voice, the most interesting way of singing, and he's hilarious!

He kept chatting between songs - free association stuff about his memories of the songs, and how he promised his cellist that he would stop talking during concerts, starting tonight...

He even stopped a few times mid verse because he either forgot the chords or the words, or he got distracted by his thoughts, so he would tell us little stories - like the time, years ago, when his boyfriend apparently had to break up with him because he got his girlfriend pregnant, but then she ended up having an abortion six months later (ha!).

It was kinda strange, because his music can be melancholic at times, and he is so jovial ... it was a weird contrast.

Check out this song "Hope There's Someone" (left).
I don't know if the video is done by them because it's from youtube.



And this is one he does with Cocorosie (right). Listening to this song was actually the first time I heard his voice (in Paris actually). I couldn't get it out of my head for days.


* * *

I ran into Henry Giroux the other day (as happens often - most grad student offices are on the same floor as his) and when he asked me the usual how are you, and I smiled and said 'all right' he stopped and gave me the 'yeah right' look, leaned against the wall and asked what was wrong.

I told him about my anxieties - whether I'm right for academia, whether there will be any jobs, whether there is a future for the social sciences and humanities in academia, let alone funding...

He often starts off with an outline, like "there are really two things we're talking about here" or "I see three sides to this issue." This time it was the three kinds of people that go into academia. (I love the way he talks). I need to be the third kind, the kind that perseveres.

Among other encouraging facts about the future of academia, he said he thinks I'm a beautiful writer, and that he wishes I were staying at Mac to work with him, and he said he wrote that in the references he sent to Concordia and Carleton.

Honestly, there's nothing quite like a Giroux pep-talk. I wish I could bottle it and add it to my tea every morning.

Christmas In The Capital

It went by so quickly... so much snow and ice, so much food and wine (ah, the French...)

I stayed with Olivier for most of December but for christmas-proper, we stayed at his parents' place with Alexandra (his sister - very cool chick) and several family visitors coming and going. It was total immersion for me, and by the end of it I learned tons of new french words and phrases. But when they all started talking at once at the table I couldn't keep track of even one sentence - I must have had a stunned and confused look on my face half the time...

This is Henriette (Olivier's mom) at the table in front of her delicious homemade artichoke soup.


This is my brother Philippe in front of Alexandra's wicked sugared pecan and goat cheese salad (sans pecans - he's allergic).


While the numerous courses, cheese platters, requisite desserts and wine with brunch were familiar, there was one thing I had never even knew existed: sandwich cake.


Layers of chicken salad, ham, egg salad and cheese between bread, encased in cream cheese and garnished with baby pickles and pimento olives.

I tried some. (and that's about all I have to say about that).

Gathered in the living room, opening gifts was a circus of oohs and ahhs, crumpled paper and camera fidgeting...

(L-R) Alexandra, her boyfriend Brian, and George the dad.

Philippe, George and Henriette.

George in his new hat - warm enough for the Russian winter!

George and Henriette opening their stockings.

Alexandra and Brian modeling their assortment of fuzz-tastic comfort (with a borrowed hat).

Step 1: Phil in anticipation.

Step 2: Phil enjoying his new umbrella (p.s. it's only bad luck if you don't ask permission).

Olivier looking all contemplative and charming - what a handsome fella!

...and munching on the yet-unwrapped book I gave him.

...something to wash down those dry, pasty pages.


* * *

The Christmas rush had us driving and walking all over the city looking for gifts and visiting (for me, meeting) lots of his friends. Ottawa is a strange city - the downtown area essentially shuts down after 5 or 6 pm, when all the political people scatter from their offices. Even timmy's is closed. It's weird.

With all that walking, Olivier's ice-pick boots came in handy. They literally transform into ice-super-hero boots and, by gripping his arm, they repeatedly saved me from falling on my ass (I think the record was 12 times during one walk to the Rideau centre).

Here's a picture of him trying to slip on an ice-coated driveway:

He didn't budge. Amazing.

One night we went down to the Parliament, where Olivier used to work as a tour guide (so I got the standard tour, punctuated with tons of secrets the public rarely hears about, including some dirt on Harper...)

Here, he's showing me one of the fossils in the stone walls inside Parliament, with the appropriate tour-guide hand etiquette (no pointing!):


The House of Commons - the green is a throwback to when commons were held on the grass (how does one look dignified and important in a grass-stained smock?).



This is the prime minister's stairway (which leads to his office), where the PM is usually seen answering questions on the news, that is until Harper banished journalists from this area...yeah.


It's a truly beautiful building, arches and pillars, lanterns and christmas lights everywhere...


The Senate (red for ... royalty? regal-ness? no wait that's purple... um... oh just look it up).




The library...gorgeous. It was saved from a fire because the librarian (who had lost three previous collections to fire) insisted on steel doors.
That's a statue of Queen Victoria, carved from one piece of marble.



Is that not the most gorgeous library ever?

* * *

Outside it's even more beautiful, with a montage of changing colors and snowflakes projected onto the stone walls.

The grounds are lit up with lights in the trees and bushes.

And of course the centennial flame, not to be confused with eternal flame, because the centennial flame actually goes out from time to time - it has to be relit with a barbecue lighter, duct taped to a hockey stick (cuz that's how we get shit done in Canada).

The Whisper Wall: On top is a statue of La Fontaine and Baldwin, who were at the forefront of the 'Great Coalition' from 1848 and 1851, which led to responsible government (first implemented in Nova Scotia by the way). On the Baldwin side of the curved structure are symbols of Ontario (crown and sceptre I think) and on the La Fontaine side are symbols of Quebec (fleur-de-lis and sword, I think). If you stand at one end of the wall facing someone else at the other end, you would need to raise your voice in order to be heard, but if you put your ear close to the wall and whisper, you can hear the other person as if they were right beside you. Something about sound waves running along the curve being amplified...very cool.

The library from the outside - Gothic architecture at its Canadian best.

That's Oli way down in the corner there.

And the whole thing in one shot - it's stunning against the black sky.

* * *

This is my favourite picture of us, in front of one of the christmas trees at Parliament:

Isn't he adorable? With his cute glasses and fuzzy chin... yeah I'm a little bit smitten.

Happy New Year!