POP CULTURE REFERENCE

Why keep a journal?

2009-01-15T07:02:00.003-03:30

I'm not talking about a blog. The two things have two completely different applications, and as much value as I see in both, I think most people miss out on the purpose of keeping a personal journal.

A blog (usually) has some kind of idea behind it. It's about propagating opinions to the (usually) anonymous masses, and making oneself known to the internet community at-large. This manifests itself (usually) as a completely irrelevant assload of material which could be better kept to oneself, but isn't.

A journal, and here I'm speaking of a completely private journal, is not about propagating opinions, and not about the spreading of ideas at all. It is a blog turned inward, where instead of illustrating our opinions to others, we illustrate them to ourselves. This is important for focus, it gives you time to think about what's going on in your daily life, and to reflect on how it all feels.

It's important to have that because, in the first place, it's a very intellectually stimulating pursuit to have to put your regular daily observances into writing. It's not enough to write "went to the bar today, had fun," because if you did that, all your days would assume a similarity that is likely unfitting. We're still living in a Seinfeldesque "show about nothing" era, and it's interesting and challenging to show each day for what it is; similar yet distinct. Same shit on a different day is an unfair simplification of daily activity.

In the second place, it's fun and liberating. After you've created a journal, you now have a place where you can (at your own risk, haha) write down all the things you really think about all the people closest to you. It's like having someone to confide in totally, except that, better yet, they'll never betray your trust or move away. And I've come to see, especially in the last little while, that we need that. We all need a place to take off the masks we wear in our daily lives. For a lot of people, that is a confidante, but the difficulty, as I said before, is that people have different plans in life, and different opinions. When you write a journal for yourself and yourself alone, you don't encounter that problem.

Anyway, start keeping a journal. You'll find it awkward at first, writing for yourself, especially if you're used to this mass-communication age as much as I was, but you'll see the value for yourself once you start to trust in your new confidante, yourself.

Expectations, and the Abstract Concept Family Tree

2009-01-12T03:36:00.003-03:30

I'm sure you've heard the saying that Necessity is the mother of Invention. That's very truthful, but it's not the only familial tie that exists in the world of abstract concepts. I've discovered a few here and there, as I'm sure you might have yourself, especially if you happen to be very weird.

Anyway, I'm going to, in coming weeks, elaborate a little on the extended family tree belonging to these abstract ideas, providing (hopefully) some insight into something. Probably. Well, we can hope anyway.

Let's return to our initial relationship. Now I might be getting a little ahead of myself if I were to say that everything in reality is based on the opposition or confluence of two forces (might be), but I think it's fair to say that a given concept is weighed upon by at least two, and often significantly more, concepts which oppose or support this concept itself. Invention, for example:

Necessity is the mother of Invention. I would say it's father is Brilliance. It takes a brilliant mind to invent something that fills a necessary niche in our world. So when Brilliance meets Necessity, their child is Invention.

Expectation, quite like Necessity, is a parent concept. Expectation is the mother of Disappointment. The father of Disappointment is Failure, who is one of the many children of Strife. When Failure and Expectation come together (in the way that someone fails to meet expectations placed upon them, or that something fails to go as expected), Disappointment is the result.

HOWEVER, here's the important point: Humanity, in concept, has a few children of its own, but Expectation is not one of them. Failure, however, is. Humanity is kinda a slut, so it has a lot of children with a lot of different concepts, and when Humanity meets with Imperfection (and it rarely if ever meets with his cocky older sister), it produces Failure. When it DOES meet with Perfection, well, that's how I was born, so we won't worry about that.

But anyway, as a human being, you're responsible for taking care of our children. You're going to have a lot of interaction with Failure. BUT, we have the LUXURY of being deadbeat grandparents in this matter. We can avoid Disappointment, but only if we avoid the thing that nurtures and takes care of Disappointment, which is Expectation. Expectation's only other kid is Satisfaction, which you don't need if you can get around the whole mess and find Happiness (whom I haven't located on the tree just yet, still working on it).

But why do we want to avoid Disappointment? Oh shut up. Don't be so foolish. Disappointment sucks, and is itself the parent of a bunch of shitty children: Resentment, Discouragement, and Complacency to name but a few. That's the part of our family that Humanity needs to forget about. No Christmas cards, no calls, nothing. We need to get away from that side of the family, and focus on the side that matters, because otherwise we're mired in their sad, shitty problems, and we'll never get to spend any time with Happiness at all (once we find her).

That's it kiddies. Drive safe and sleep tight, but not at the same time.

Awkwardness and Travel Tips!

2009-01-07T07:16:00.003-03:30

Traveling sucks. Well, okay, that's not entirely true, but it sure as hell CAN suck. I got back into St. John's today, now both my legs ache from being cramped onto a blue Dash-8 aeroplane, and I'm thinking, how can I turn this into a relevant blog post? I don't know, but stick with me and we'll get there together.

Well, first we should try to understand what makes traveling suck. There's a lot to choose from: the stress of packing and getting to the airport on time, the uncomfortable conditions of travel-vehicles (redundant much?), and the time! THE TIME!! It takes FOREVER to get anywhere. Anyway, failing a real message, here are some tips that I've picked up along my various travels:

1. Get everything you intend to pack together in ONE PLACE before you start packing. It's very frustrating to start your packing, only to realize you have to start over again to make room for something you'd forgotten.

2. Arrange transportation to/from the airport (or bus depot or whatever the fuck) well in advance. Call the cab companies and see if they have an airport rate or shuttle service. Keep people informed about delays or stopovers.

3. When planning your travel attire, avoid metal zippers or buckles, and anything else that will set off a metal detector. Secondary searches don't happen anywhere NEAR as often to people who don't beep on the way through (excepting of course cases of racial profiling, shitty).

4. If you have special cargo, call the fucking airline well before the day of your flight to find out about packaging and storage information. I've got a story about getting kicked off a flight on the way through security... seventeen bags of live fish in a large leather purse (NOT MY IDEA). Wow. Call ahead.

5. Bring as many kinds of entertaining stimuli as possible. Bring a book, but don't neglect your iPod for blocking out the (often hilarious, if you're in the right mood for it) screaming wails of little children (and the reason it's funny is because can you seriously imagine if your biggest problem in LIFE was that you're on a plane and you don't like it? HAHAHAHA!!!). Laptops can make a boring trip productive, or allow you to catch up on How I Met Your Mother. Yeah right, productive.

6. If you like to sleep on the plane (or bus, whatever as I said), do not neglect to obtain one of those little disposable pillow things they have. Those are fucking great. Also, don't sleep the night before a long flight, because if you like to sleep, being well rested will leave you bored as fuck. Also, window seat. Your seatmate may be offended that you're using the window frame to sleep instead of staring out on the sublime vistas available to us above the clouds, but fuck 'em, you'll be asleep anyway.

7. Use the bathroom before going through security. It will be your last chance before getting on the plane, and you will want to keep moving around on the plane to an absolute minimum. What I do, get to my seat, stow my bag, buckle up (so the seatbelt doesn't get stuck under your anonymous seatmate, leaving you with the awkward task of extricating it), and put that little arm down between the seats (if there is one present). That little arm is like the little plastic divider in the grocery store checkout. It's IMPORTANT. Everyone is more comfortable when it's employed, if not physically then at least socially. Anyways, back to what I do, I buckle up and I don't move again until I'm getting off that plane. Otherwise everybody's looking at you and you need to be conscious of how much noise you're making and it's garbage.

Anyways, I was going to do nine tips, but this is already way too long for casual enjoyment. And now that my painkillers have kicked in, I'm finally going to be able to sleep. Night night kiddies.

Purpose, and Forgiveness

2009-01-05T05:19:00.004-03:30

Okay, I'm back. I've finally managed to extricate myself from that grasping black hole that is... Facebook. What a goddamn time burglar. Anyway, in getting away from Facebook, I find I've encountered something of a vacuum of self-expression. Without the old reliable Facebook status to display my most current thoughts and opinions to the world, I have no outlet.

OR SO IT SEEMS! Because apparently I have this blog. This blog that is something like all my lost friendships; fraught with neglect. Anyway, I'm rectifying this. I'm also keeping a personal journal, in which I can get out all those ideas that are too personal or cruel for all you anonymous plebs (hahaha, irony).

But a blog needs a purpose, even in this postmodern age, and I think I've finally come up with something almost relevant: the comedy and wisdom of an incredibly arrogant 25 year-old egotist.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's going to be funny, OR possess real wisdom. Just that that's my purpose. If you don't like it, go to your Blogger home page and find the "Random Blog" button, because there are plenty other bloggers out there, ranging from the brilliant to the douche-brilliant to the douche-bag.

Today's entry, which (according to my New Year's resolutions) will be the first of many, is going to deal with Forgiveness.

Forgiveness, the act of giving pardon for wrongdoing, is something that most everyone has had experience with from one side or the other. Somebody beats up your parents, they offer an apology, and the offended party then chooses whether or not to accept in the ritual of forgiveness.

Here's the thing that most people don't know: forgiveness is fucking AWESOME.

I'm just going to go on a tempestuous rant here for a little while. We forgive for two reasons; we forgive for others, and we forgive for ourselves. The act of forgiving is relieving! It is the unburdening of guilt or anger! Often both. Let's do a little Reason Tree (or something) to see what forgiveness is like.

1. Party A (let's call him Roy) and Party B (let's call her Helen) are friends.

2. Roy does wrong by Helen.
2a. Roy feels guilty about what he's done.
2b. Helen is angry at Roy for same.

3. Roy offers an apology to Helen, who accepts. Both parties are relieved of their relative afflictions, and are able to remain friends.

COMPLICATIONS emerge when we add a couple other factors, which often play a part in the forgiveness process. Let's see:

1. Roy and Helen are friends.

2. Roy does wrong by Helen.
2a. Roy refuses to admit wrongdoing (through either ignorance or pig-headedness).
2b. Helen is angry at Roy.

3. Roy does not offer an apology to Helen.

4. Roy and Helen drift apart.
4a. Roy becomes self-righteously resentful of Helen for her "wrongful" dismissal.
4b. Helen begins to hold a grudge against Roy.

5. Roy and Helen are no longer friends.

This gets even worse when there is no single agitator in the equation. Check it out this way:

1. Roy and Helen are friends.

2. Roy does wrong by Helen.
2a. Roy refuses to admit wrongdoing.
2b. Helen does wrong by Roy in retaliation.

3. Roy and Helen are angry at each other.
3a. Roy still refuses to apologize or admit wrongdoing.
3b. Helen refuses to apologize having not received one from Roy.

4. Roy and Helen have a climactic falling-out.

5. Neither Roy nor Helen can tolerate the presence of the other any more. Groups of friends are divided between the two, and social awkwardness and difficulty ensue in trying to plan any activity which would normally have included both parties.

Okay, this is neither complete or comprehensive. But I've made this rather long explanation of the complications of forgiveness to make a very simple point:

ROY AND HELEN, FUCK OFF.

Pig-headedness is IRRELEVANT in considering guilt. Simply put, if your friend feels like you've hurt them, MAKE THE FUCKING APOLOGY. In order to have a better life, make the fucking apology. Now, this isn't a solution to every problem, because in some cases you will be the person being wronged instead of wronging others. In those cases, this next point is incredibly important to remember:

The apology is not NECESSARY to forgiveness. At the end of the day, it's within you to forgive, apology or not, and you should probably (read: DEFINITELY) just let it fucking go. Because otherwise, you're left with the anger. Even if the other person is a COMPLETE prick about it, and not only refuses to admit wrongdoing, but blames you for it instead, let it go. Not even for them, for yourself. Because that anger will eat you alive. And makes planning a Birthday party harder for everyone else.

ANYWAY, that's my installment of wisdom. TOO LONG.

See you next time, kiddies.

On Blogging (while avoiding a shitty proto-emo song reference)

2008-04-11T22:10:00.004-02:30

What I'm trying to say is that though it's been awhile, there's no real need to make a big deal out of it. Apparently the last time this thing saw any action was August of last year. That's a longer dry spell than that last year with my ex. Anyway, this entry I'm writing for myself. If you read it, YAY YOU! But, it's not for you. I don't really understand why I occasionally do this, but I feel like this kind of self reflection could possibly be a good thing even SOBER. So here I am.

This is my writing blog. I haven't written anything. I should be (and am) embarrassed. I still think of myself as a writer, even though my only large piece of prose has been heard by a grand total of maybe forty people. I guess I'm probably a musician before a writer, but I don't usually think of myself that way. I've got big ideas and idle hands, that's my problem. Maybe I really am a philosopher. Must be; I work at a call center for a living.

Anyway, I don't really have a purpose to this post. Sorry if you've read this far only to be disappointed, but I did warn you that this wasn't for you. Maybe I'll go write a poem so I don't have to feel like such a fraud.

HUH???

2007-08-22T00:17:00.000-02:30

I have a BLOG???

News to me. Well, not really. I just COMPLETELY FORGOT about its existence.

Updates, I guess:

I haven't been doing much writing. No poetry, except for a short little two stanza jiggy I wrote a while back. Been SONGwriting. Extremely busy with the musics in fact.

OH NO, I TIRE OF THIS.

I might update again in the near future. Probably.

And she walks off down the road.

2007-05-26T03:43:00.000-02:30

They're gonna cancel it, and the it I'm talking about is Veronica Mars.

Worse yet, I just became one of these people who writes letters to television studios complaining about their lineup choices. However, I will say this: They might read my letter. It was short, it was to the point, and if they get enough letters of this sort they MIGHT renew. According to the source of all knowledge, Wikipedia, they have until mid June to get renewed. As well, the CW apparently dubbed the finale of season three as a SEASON FINALE, and not a SERIES FINALE.

There may be hope.

P.S.: WRITE LETTERS, OH GOD WRITE LETTERS DON'T LET ME BE THE ONLY ONE.

New poem!

2007-05-08T03:01:00.000-02:30

I've written another poem, it's called Spring.

It refers to one distinct memory I have of walking to school in the morning in what I believe was early or mid June. The sun was rising, and it lit the clouds up like they were great waves of flame reaching across the sky. I remember the way the Catholic church steeple was silhouetted against that red and purple sky, lending it something of a sinister air. There were birds singing, and to this day I don't know what sort of birds they are; I've never heard them anywhere else, but they have such a distinctive song that I don't think I'll ever forget it. I was walking along this rutted dirt track that ran down between the houses. It was a shortcut between my house and my school, and I walked it every day, even though it was usually over four or five feet of snow. Now June in Labrador City still has snow, but not so much, and the ground of this pathway was really soft and worn smooth by the melting. There were long strands of yellow grass splayed across the footpaths too.

I guess I can't really say this is one memory. Nothing in particular happened, I don't know the date or anything, but I remember it so distinctly.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy.

Revisions!

2007-05-05T18:25:00.000-02:30

Wow, been awhile since I posted anything at all, let alone anything new. I've been doing a little writing, but nothing I'm yet willing to show off. However, despite not having anything distinctly new, I have started to do some revisionary work on poems already produced.

See, in my continued search to improve my writing, I finally took up the initiative to find out what iambs are. Iambs as in iambic tetrameter, or iambic pentameter, etc.. I'd heard the terms before, but never really understood. Finally, in reading some commentary on some Coleridge, wherein the commentator described his use of iambic tetrameter, I decided I finally had to figure out what the hell this was all about.

As such, I have revised one of my earlier poems into proper iambic form, alternating between iambic quattrometer and tetrameter. I think it flows much better. You can read it here. As always, comments and suggestions, criticisms and questions are greatly appreciated.

Who's writing a punk rock song now?

2007-04-16T02:03:00.000-02:30

I am.

Now, I wouldn't consider myself on the whole to be a punk rocker. I like the occasional bit of punk. There are some bands I really dig, but for the most part I'm a wannabe Metalhead. However, on top of being a wannabe Metalhead, I'm a wannabe Idealist. I say wannabe (too many times) because I can never stay on that cloud for too long. I get dragged down by reality until I enter my pessimistic phase, when somebody has to drag me back out of it again and put me back on the cloud.

Most of that is rambling, but if you want to read the two verses I've got of my punk-rock song so far, go here.

If you can't tell, and there's no reason you should be able to easily, I'm writing this about Evangelical Christians. I just saw Jesus Camp, and let me tell you, that shit is scary. As with any good documentary, I got really really angry, and even cried a little. However, I should state that I always watch documentaries with the most critical of gazes, due to my overwhelming fear of propaganda. But assuming that due diligence was taken to ensure these were real Evangelical Christians, and I have no reason to believe they weren't, shit was scary.

I'll probably write another verse or two, though the chorus is going to be the hardest part. And that rhyme scheme is a little fucked up, and the meter needs a lot of work. So it's a work in progress; enjoy.

Leaves

2007-04-08T20:18:00.000-02:30

I've written two more poems, but you can only see one of them. It's called Leaves.

It's a bit personal, a bit historical. If you know me, you might have an idea what this is about; if you don't, why not ask and get to know me anyway?

And for the love of my Ego, comment! Criticize! Anything!

I've written...

2007-03-30T06:39:00.000-02:30

... a new poem. It's called "View from a Window". Read it here.

I've been reading a lot more Coleridge these past couple days. FUCK. That guy is so inspiring it's gross. I'm really into how bleak his work is, largely because he seems to reflect the sort of general disillusionment I was and am going through with philosophy, writing, and the real world. Not so much with the writing, I'm not so much disillusioned as I am blocked. Anybody know a good way to cure Writer's Block?

Probably not. I think the Coleridge is helping, as evidenced by that I wrote a poem tonight. Just finished it, in fact. I'm probably going to try and actually revise this one once I get a little time away from it. I like it right now; I may not tomorrow.

Anyway, I'm going to try and keep updating this thing regularly. As it is, if anybody has any criticism of the poem (preferably constructive), I'd love to hear it.

Omigod, Coleridge.

2007-03-28T23:00:00.000-02:30

Check this out, it's a poem I just read by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Work Without Hope

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair -
The bees are stirring - birds are on the wing -
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow,
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.

Fuckin' wow. Is it even POSSIBLE to write this sort of thing anymore? I'd be jealous, but I'm too fucking inspired. AH! Coleridge!

Expect creativeness to follow.

Slavery..

2007-03-28T12:27:00.000-02:30

I was just reading this news story:

Protester disrupts British service marking slave-trade ban

Here's the lead:

An activist disrupted a service in London's Westminster Abbey on Tuesday that was marking 200 years since Britain outlawed the slave trade — forcing guards to restrain him only three metres from British Prime Minister Tony Blair and the Queen.

--

Holy fuck. Do the monarchy and the British government seriously think they deserve a fucking pat on the back for "abolishing" slavery? I'm insulted too, Mr. Agbetu, and I'm not even African. I'm insulted and I'm disgusted. As a Canadian, I have no particular ties to the African slave trade; my ancestors only traded in Chinese slaves, but it's really sickening to me that two fucking archaic institutions (the Queen and the Church) can try so blatantly to gloss over the cause and effect of slavery and give a contented sigh for 200 years when slavery was only going on elsewhere.

You ask me, you can celebrate the end of slavery when it's really over: when these people, the long-term victims of slavery have their goddamn reparations. It's time to stop talking about past "triumphs", and deal with present problems.

Hah.

2007-03-17T09:06:00.000-02:30

I just signed up for the NL Blogroll. If you're reading this, it's entirely likely you already know what this is. I just thought it was kind of funny that, among all the various titles I'm going to have this big obnoxious "POP CULTURE REFERENCE" leaping out at people.

As well, looking at a few of the blogs on the list, I see that if I'm to keep up, to deserve a place on this blogroll, I may actually have to provide content. Well, we'll see how that goes. Hopefully it'll provide some impetus for my continued writing. Hopefully I don't make an ass out of myself.

As it is, today's content can be found on my other blog, a poem called "Blackbirds".

It could still use a little work, but I really enjoy it. Not so much the poem itself, though I think there are a couple really good lines in theres, but the experience that spawned it. I was walking home (more specifically to my girl's house) at something like 7am when suddenly this great wave of crows passed overhead. I shouldn't even say they passed, really, because they just kept coming, all swooping past me in the same direction. I'd never seen anything like it, there were probably 200, maybe 300 birds in all, and as I came upon the corner of Sheena's street they all converged upon this one tree. It was brilliant, all these tiny black forms perched on the bare branches of this tree, making so much noise that my dramatic mind could almost feel the air vibrating. Some circled above the tree, eventually landing while others took up flight, and all the while more birds were coming 'round.

Eventually the flock, although a flock of crows is called a murder, split up between two trees, this one and one further on down the road, and the division was so distinctly clear. It was like watching C-Span, or so I figure. I've only really flicked through, but it was like a Parliament of crows, shouting at each other. It was really, really brilliant to watch. I stood there a really long time, feeling this dry cold, a Labrador cold sinking into the skin of my arms and legs, feeling the well of heat between my back and my backpack. Eventually they broke off, flying in this massive grouping even further down the road, and I turned off to go to bed. But before I did I sat and wrote the poem.

Anyway, so there's some content. I don't know if this is content anyone will actually want to read, but hell, they don't have to if they don't want to. If you got this far, good for you (or me, I'm not sure). Hope you enjoyed!

A work in progress.

2007-03-17T08:07:00.000-02:30

So I'm still kicking this ol' blog a bit. Ever since I started writing a little bit every day, I've had a greater and greater desire to show my work, to receive criticism or praise, or both. It's not easy trying to devote yourself to writing. There's a sort of oddness to it, because writing is generally conceived as really, really accessible. Anybody can do it, pretty much.

The hard thing isn't the writing, as I said, anybody can do it, and bookstores are flooded with examples of this. The hard thing is writing well! I don't know if I can do it. I think I can, or at least I think I have the potential to. I want to. Dammit, how much I want to. I want to see, in my lifetime, the sort of respect that was payed to authors in days gone by. One of the downsides to the accessibility of writing is that the really good books, the ones that try to say something, or mean something, are lost in an ocean of other books. I'm not saying that writing should be some form of esoteric pursuit, best left to the so-called "intelligentsia", of whom I do not consider myself a member. I didn't even know how to spell intelligentsia correctly until just now. But I think it sorta sucks that even should I devote my entire life to writing, it's likely whatever I can produce will be drowned by a wash of erotic thrillers and crime novels featuring various professions.

OH well. It's a problem that's affecting the arts as a whole, not just writing. Our scientifically driven social majority has somewhat belittled the possibility of a pure devotion to the arts. You can try as you might to write, or paint, or make original and interesting music, but you're going to have to do it after your day job. That, to me, is sad.

Anyway, I'm rambling like that guy in that song. That's right, try that simile on for size. As it is, I've reworked my other blog (used to be Mutant Strain, for my zombie epic, ha-ha) into an all-round writing journal, with poems and indexed parts of short fiction as it's updated. Check it out if you like, I may be using this journal to add thoughts on my written work, but who knows. Anyway, whoever may be reading this, thanks for letting me rant (not that you had a choice, but thanks for reading).

2007-03-17T06:51:00.000-02:30

OMIGOD, poetry.

-----

Where from came this desire;
Nay, not where but rather when,
For it sets my soul afire
Putting paper to the pen!

-----

Holy shit, I'm waxing poetical like nobody's business. I think we can blame Sheena, as she's the one started reading Wordsworth to me. Altogether, however, I like it.

I used to write poems when I was younger, but they were rife with too-personal imagery, and forced lines. Even when they didn't rhyme, they fit like a square peg half-way through the round hole. They sucked. Nowadays I'm writing NATURE poems! Like Wordsworth himself, I am penetrated by the overriding spirit of nature, the beauty that emanates from the simplicity of being. In short, I'm diggin' it. As well, I've got this whole new handle on measure and rhythm. I'm not saying I'm metric as the greats, but my poems definitely have more flow than they did. And most importantly, I'm having FUN! Exploring universal themes in a way my studies in "philosophy" could never permit! Fugging wonderful.

Anyway, I've decided to convert my other blog into a writing blog. I've been posting somewhat liberally on various forums, but I've decided that I want to take actual credit for the work I produce, and not rely on a pseudonym just yet. So check out my profile to find my writings, and enjoy!

One of those St. John's summers.

2007-03-12T20:24:00.000-02:30

Hot town, summer in the city,
Back of my neck gettin' dirt and gritty,
Been down, isn't it a pity,
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city,

All round, somthin' somethin' somethin',
Walkin' round the sidewalks, somethin' somethin' somethin'!

AH shit! Another summer in St. John's! Something I haven't experience since I was the tender age of 14 or 15. I remember it clearly, the sunny days, suckin' down President's Choice Lemon-Lime soda before strolling down to the Regatta, and I remember BIKINI CARWASH!!!

And now, years later in that circular literary fashion, here I am AGAIN!

Triumph.

There's a strike on at IOC, so not only are most of my friends (sadly) out of summer jobs, but my girl got Editor in Chief, and as such I have absolutely no reason to return to the home of my so-called "birth". HUZZAH!!!

Ah, St. John's, the oldest city in North America (except maybe L'anse aux Meadows). Infinitely sweeter than other towns, like say, L'anse aux Meadows, St. John's is like the perfect proverbial oatmeal, not too hot, not too cold. It's just the right size, as well. Hooray for St. John's!

Now for chicken.

TV!!!

2007-03-11T23:14:00.000-02:30

Sweet sweet Apeiron, TV.

What happened!? I don't understand. TV used to be a waste of time; a brain-melting, retardation-causing device used only to fill a few hours between school and socializing. Sure, Seinfeld was fun and good, but it's still not something I'd write home about.

I was never one of these MuchMusic junkies. In fact, I hate music videos and always have. So I never had a reason to really watch television. UNTIL NOW.

Battlestar Galactica! Lost! Dexter! Heroes! Veronica Mars (shut-up, it's awesome)! These programs have ignited the ashes of my passion for television programming that I had long thought was dead! I am awash with care for fictional characters AGAIN! This hasn't happened since The Real Ghostbusters and He-Man (though not in a chauvinistic way). And the Ninja Turtles. I'm like a kid at Christmas when I hear that the latest BSG is ready and waiting for ME! Oh intrigue, there thou art..st.. or something.

Anyway, in conclusion, television. Perhaps with an exclamation point. Thank you for your time, I've got to run and check out this series "Rome" which everyone is talking about. Later!