Talk Talk Talk

A librarian I know once said that she became a librarian because she didn't like public speaking or computers. She now realizes how ridiculous this sounds. Most academic librarians spend all day in front of a computer (currently, that's my new iMac) and some of us spend a lot of hours in classes handing out wisdom. Today, I did my annual talk to 150 1st year students in a certain professional department. I think this was my fourth session so far this term. Last week, I spoke to 110 science students. I have more sessions coming up, including a three hour research methods class for some masters students. Who would want to listen to me speak for three hours? I don't even think Barrack Obama could hold their attention for that long.

Well, that's all I have to say about that. I guess I have to get back to work and continue being a bad blogger.

Oh, have you seen those Hitler videos on youtube? The video is taken from a feature film. (The original clip is somewhere on youtube) but people keep adding their own subtitles. Some are hilarious, like:

And there are more!

Busy/Beatles/Macs/Roller Derby

Yup, it's September and the kids are back in school, which means I am busy, busy, busy. A colleague of mine refers to the students at this time of year as the "boob and bellybutton brigade." Judging by what I just saw at the reference desk, she is dead-on. Sometimes I like my job.

I have been adjusting to the Mac world. On my desk at work is a brand new iMac. In fact, I am typing on it right now. I am not sure how long the keys will remain white, however. At home, I have a brand new MacBook pro. I like it. Talk about a solid piece of machinery. The bottom is milled from a single piece of aluminum. I've gone over to the bright side, so take that Bill Gates. I have moved into my new office, so everything feels new and improved.

I am kind of interested in the new Beatles remasters, but not that interested enough to shell out for them. If anyone wants to buy me one or both box sets, I'd be happy to allow you to do that.

Did you know that there is a women-only boxing club in TO? I kid you not:

http://www.torontonewsgirls.com/

It's cool, but probably not as cool as the rolling derby librarian in Toronto. She is a member of the Death Track Dolls. Someday, I will get out and see them in action.

There: another boring post perfectly-executed.

Darcy Allan Sheppard (Al)

Last night, I joined the memorial ride for Darcy Allan Sheppard, along with about 1000 other cyclists. We headed east on Bloor, rode south on Yonge to Queen Street and then headed up University Avenue. Lots of Police on bikes joined us and blocked traffic to permit the cyclists to make their way. Generally, the cars and crowd seemed tolerant, but I heard a few derisive comments from the sidelines.

In case you have no idea what happened, a couple of nights ago, Michael Bryant, the former Attorney General of Ontario, rammed into Al's bike. Al confronted the driver from the passenger side, then went round to the driver side of the car. Bryant decided to flee, so Al grabbed the car door and hung on, clearly an unwise decision. The fact that he had allegedly been drinking did not help. The amazing thing is what happened next, something that has been caught by surveillance video and witnessed by many people.

Bryant speed away at high speed on the wrong side of the street, later mounting the sidewalk in an attempt to dislodge Al from his car. He drove into mailboxes and poles before Al was finally shaken loose. In the end, his rear wheels drove over the cyclist, killing him. Al was pronounced dead at a local hospital.

It is difficult to defend the actions of an enraged cyclist who grabs onto a car, but I have to think that if I were in that situation, I would have stopped my car. What kind of a maniac makes the reckless decision to scrape the guy from his car? What was his lawyer girlfriend sitting in the passenger seat thinking about this?

Bryant was touted by some as being a future Premier of the province. This is clearly never going to happen, and I have to think that he is cursing himself for succumbing to a fit road rage. At the memorial, someone suggested that he is likely to only get 2 years. That's not enough.

As many of you know, I cycle year round in Toronto and I have had my share of run-ins with motorists. The two groups tend to hate each other, and I blame that on the lousy cycling infrastructure in this city (this view was reinforced by my recent trip to Amsterdam, which is a cycling paradise by comparison). I also blame it on distracted drivers who are always in a hurry.

Yes, there are lots of idiotic cyclists. This morning, for example, I stopped at a red light and watched as 10 cyclists passed me and proceeded through the intersection as if the light were green. This pisses me off because drivers take this as evidence that all cyclists are law breakers. I stop all all red lights. But, I may do a rolling stop at stop signs on quiet residential streets when it is safe and clear. I see nothing wrong with that.

Head over to a main street and I see cyclists with headphones, cyclists racing through red lights, cyclists peeling out of sides streets and on to main streets without looking (I often have to ring my bell at them), cyclists riding on the wrong side of the street, cyclists riding without lights, etc. Listen, my fellow cyclists, if you want respect on the roads, you must ride responsibly, even if it means waiting out 20 seconds at a traffic light when there are no cars coming the other way. To the drivers out there, please share the road. To the city, please invest in more cycling lanes and clear them in winter.

Reading Update (because yesterday's post wasn't boring enough)

To follow on from yesterday's extremely boring post, I offer another extremely boring post about books that I have recently read.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Although I enjoyed this book, I sincerely hope that Dickens didn't always resort to improbable coincidences in his novels. I mean, Great Expectations had enough of that for anybody. Oliver Twist contains even more astounding coincidences. It's a bit tiring and hard to accept, but it does help to wrap up the plot nicely.

This was the second Dickens book for me. It took me many years to finally get around to reading Boz and I am happy that I did. But really, enough with the coincidental plot devises already. A Tale of Two Cities awaits my attention.

Fabrizio's Return by Mark Frutkin

Fabrizio's Return is a lighthearted and somewhat comedic novel about a priest being assessed years after the fact for potential sainthood by the Devil's Advocate, a Jesuit sent by the Pope to ask all of the tough questions and dig around for details. Along the way, we meet many interesting characters, including a rather comedic and insolent dwarf called Omero and Rodolfo, a man who wears a skeleton on his back. The novel features magical potions and seductions and music. All-in-all, this is a very good book.


Rachel Papers by Martin Amis

I have read lots of Amis, but never got around to this one, until recently. It's pretty good for a first novel. It has lots of sex and hilarity. I am not sure what to say about it, beyond that. It's well-written (of course) and a quick read. If you like Amis, you will probably like this.

Other People by Martin Amis

What a strange book is this. There is a mystery at the heart of the story about a woman who has amnesia. She manages to piece together parts of her history, but we are left to deduce other things about her and her past. Personally, I wouldn't rank this as being among my favourite Amis books (that honour might go to London Fields or Dead Babies). Still, if you must read everything he has written, you don't need me to recommend it, because you will have already read it.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I mentioned this book in yesterday's post, but here it is again. I was totally engrossed in this book. Sure, there may be other post-apocalyptic novels out there, but this is a very poetic one. Every time I check Amazon.com for reviews on books I have read, I am stunned. Sure, more than 1000 people rated this as a 5 star book. Bizarrely, nearly 200, or so, seem to think that this book merits only 1 star. I shouldn't be surprised at this stage. Look at reviews for books generally regarded as literary masterpieces, and some doofus will give it one star. Even more perplexing is the fact that Microserfs -- one of the books on my list of the worst books ever written, along with The Mysteries of Pittsburgh - a book that also gets my vote for dumb titles that bear no relation to the book -- receives so many 5 star reviews.

Anyway, The Road is a fascinating book. The prose is powerful and poetic, yet restrained. It paints an evocative picture. I will admit to wondering - as Mister Anchovy did in a comment to the preceding post - how this could possibly be made into a movie. Well, if they take great liberties, then perhaps. I hope it stays true to the book.

OK, no more pseudo-book reviews, at least for a while.

Michael Chabon

Among the books I read recently are several by Michael Chabon. Here are some brief notes.

Maps and Legends

This collection of non-fiction pieces is really a showcase for Chabon's vocabulary. If you are looking for lots of examples of purple prose in one manuscript, this is the book for you. Some of these pieces are enjoyable--if overwritten--but others left me cold. I have little interest in comic books, and so I skimmed those essays quickly. I would recommend this book for hardcore Chabon fans only or for those who want to improve their vocabulary.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

As I just said, I have no interest in comic books, so you might wonder why I would read a fictionalized account of the rise of the comic book in America. Good question. I have no idea what the answer is. So, yeah, this is a story about the comic book in the US of A. Despite the subject matter, the book is quite engaging and very well-written. It probably deserves the Pulitzer Prize that it won. While it might not be Chabon's finest novel, it is right up there. The ending made sense too. It is 646 pages, but it didn't feel like it.

The Final Solution: A Story of Detection

I really looked forward to reading this compact novella about Sherlock Holmes, though he is not mentioned by name in the book. I was not blown away. That's not to say that this is not a good and worthwhile read. The story is deceptively simple, and one that ends without the perfect Holmesian deduction; yet, there is something elegant in the writing and the ending, where it is left to the reader to divine the answers.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

In my growing list of worst books I have ever read, I will add this piece of garbage. It's perplexing that this novel ever found a publisher. The protagonist is a boring sexually-confused chap who seems to cry a lot. His father is a gangster. The story is dumb. There are sections when the writer slips out of the first-person narrative into an implausible omnipotent first person narration. In other words, he becomes a mind reader. And then there are the little irritating things like tides on Lake Erie.

If you want to read Chabon, skip this one and stick go for Wonder Boys or The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, or maybe even the book that follows.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union

I am not really sure that I am qualified to comment on this book. There is so much Jewish lore that I do not understand, and I think I missed some of the subtleties of the plot because of that. I hated the first 120 pages and, looking back, I feel that my distaste for this book was a reaction to just having just read Chabon's abysmal first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. I was still angry that such a piece of trash was ever published.

TYPU needs an edit. There are digressions that serve absolutely no purpose at all, and make the novel longer than it needs to be. I could give you examples, but I won't. It's a good and interesting book. It's nice to see that Chabon has improved as a writer since his first stinker was published in '89.

This is soon to be a Coen Brothers movie. I would like to see it when it comes out a couple of years down the road.

Wonder Boys
I saw this film ages ago, when I had no idea who Mr. Chabon was. I loved this movie. I still love this movie. Normally, I would never read a book if I have already seen a film adaptation, but I made an exception in this case. I have a nagging feeling that the movie is better. I can't believe I wrote that line, because I have never felt that way before. The book is always better. The book is supposed to be better. Of course, this means that I will have to see the film again to see if I am right about this.

Back to Work and Getting Re-adjusted

Well, that was a long break from life. I took a lot of time off in August and did lots of stuff, and neglected other things, like a leaking eve on my house. C'est la vie, non? I decided that during my time away that I was not going to come back to my high-paid job. Who needs the aggravation? Who needs the money? The trouble with coming back is all of the crap that piles up. I have lots of it. I will be digging out, going to meetings, teaching some classes. This is why I want to be independently wealthy. Well, that's one of the reasons. I just want to be rich, "%$#&ing fifthly %$#&ing stinking rich." Yeah, that is from a song. I bet you don't know which one.

I read a number of books last month. I may even tell you what they are. I just finished Cormac McCarthy's The Road only to discover that a film version will be released in October. That was good timing. I quite like seeing movies after having just read the book, but I don't generally read books if I have seen the film with a recent notable exception that I will relate tomorrow or later, if I can find the time.

And now, I must do some work...

Hiatus

I will be taking a hiatus for most of the rest of the summer, but don't be surprised if a podcast should appear here during that time. It might just happen. I shall return.

Since it was raining this morning, I decided to take the subway to work, something I rarely do. I continue to be amazed at what I see on the subway. For one, I still cannot believe that there are people who willingly wear Crocs in public. WTF! To me, that's like wearing your slippers to work/school. Now, I am fully aware that some people reading this post probably own Crocs and will swear that they are the most comfortable footwear they have ever owned. Well, good for you. They are ugly and dumb. Unless you are a child, leave the Crocs at home. Wear them to the beach, if you must.

As I have said very many times, I am stunned that any woman would apply makeup in public. I gather it's because they are pressed for time, or something. Who knows? This morning, I watched two young women apply all manner of face paint while sitting on a crowded subway car. The one on the right spent about 15 minutes applying mascara to her upper right eyelash: it just went on and on and on. The other had a tray of various blushes, eye shadows, lipsticks, etc. The oddest thing is that she devised a new (well to me anyway) use for a dessert spoon.

From my position, I was uncertain as to what exactly she was doing with the utensil. I came to two possible conclusions: she used the spoon to apply mascara; or, she used it to curl her eyelashes. I wish I had an answer. I should probably add, for the sake of full disclosure, that I really do not like makeup, especially lipstick.

The Ugliest Male Celebrity

Last Friday night, while freezing on a Queen Street patio during Toronto's unseasonably cold summer, this topic came up. I have to say that creating a list of the ugliest celebrity women would be far easier (think Sarah Jessica Parker or Celine Dion).

Now, two of the women in attendance have been embroiled in this argument for some time and are deadlocked: For them, it's Gerard Depardieu versus Notorious B.I.G. While I think that there is some merit to both making the list, Notorious B.I.G. is (I guess that should be was) far uglier.

But, for my money, I suggested one of the three Jerrys: Jerry Stiller, Jerry Orbach, or Jerry Lewis. Of course, one could easily add Jerry Seinfeld. Other names that came up were people like Keith Richards, Conan O'Brien, and Edward James Olmos. Wait, I suggested those three. Later, I regretted not adding Hervé Villechaize or Axl Rose or Ron Howard. Someone said Bryan Adams, but I am not convinced.

So, is it Gerard Depardieu or Notorious B.I.G.or someone else?

Moving Offices, again

As I pack up my office for yet another move to a temporary office (my 7th office) and, ultimately to my brand new office (my 8th office), I am left to ponder movies. You have seen the segments where disgraced employees are escorted out of the building. Or, in other cases, people who have quit walk out of the office. Inevitably, they carry one file box with a few items including: a picture frame, a coffee mug, maybe a pennant for their favourite baseball team. That's it. It's always the same. I'd need a small van. Seriously.

In three years, I will again move to a new office. It's a fact, kids.

Go to Hell Purolator Courier

Just to review, I have already posted about an infuriating encounter with Purolator Courier. So, just to prove that this was not an isolated incident, I can tell you about a recent event.

Because I choose a different MacBook configuration from the standard, I had to order via the online Apple Canada Store. You know what this means: couriers. I purchased two pieces of equipment, which means, they are sending two packages via two separate couriers: the much-hated Purolator and the much-hated UPS. Does that make any sense? So, here's the rundown:

Monday: Note left on my door saying delivery was attempted and informing me that I had to pick up my package up at 800 Kipling Avenue, which is miles and miles from where I live.

Monday: I call and insist on a redelivery. I scheduled that and got a confirmation number, after being transferred to someone who knew what they were doing. In truth, I had this nagging feeling that the package would never arrive, given my history with Purolator.

Wednesday was a holiday in Canada, so it was scheduled for Thursday.

Thursday: part way through Thursday morning, I decide to track my package. Guess what? It is waiting for pick-up at the depot at 800 Kipling Avenue, which is miles and miles from my house. It never made it back on a truck.

The dude on the phone was absolutely no help. All he could say was that the package would not be delivered today. Again, I ask, how can Purolator call itself a courier company? They don't really deliver anything, do they? They make one lame attempt and then make the people waiting do all of the work. Purolator is useless. And, if you don't believe me, just Google "Purolator sucks" and see what comes up.

RIP

Michael Jackson: I never liked your music. I have never owned any of your music and I never will. The Jackson 5 were OK, though. They had some soul. The single glove never bothered me very much, nor did the pajamas. I'd were pajamas in public if I could get away with it, and maybe even a mask. Why not? I was more confused with ever-changing shape of your face, especially your nose. Why the ski jump at the end? I'd go for something a little more subdued if I were in the market for a new nose. More likely, I'd got for a Tycho Brahe kind of nose.

Ed McMahon: Mr. Sidekick, RIP. I never won the Sweepstakes, not that I tried: the damn thing was way too complicated. I am still not sure if you were funny. My gut says no. It also tells me that you fell short of your potential. Hank Kingsley is the man! Oh yeah, Jeffrey Tambor out-Ed-ed you, my friend. I hope you enjoy showing up unexpectedly at people's houses with big cheques in Heaven.

Farrah Fawcett: You will always be Farrah Fawcett-Majors to me. Damn, I was jealous of the Six Million Dollar Man. He had an action-packed TV show, a hot wife, and action figures in his likeness. And then what? The Fall Guy? A failed film career? I have to wonder if things would have been different had you stayed together. I don't blame you though: he's kind of an ugly man, after all.

Temporary Office

It's always a bit weird using someone else's office. You never know what you might find or what you might see. In this temporary office, I have to contend with the pretty pictures on the wall, the odd things tacked to the bulletin board (like one newspaper item on proper business attire), family photos, a series of post-it notes with indecipherable notes, and the general orderliness of the place. I can help but contrast it with mine. My office is in a state of general disorderliness.

But, it's the ergonomics that really gets me. First, the computer monitor is so far forward on the desk, it looks as if it's about to tip over the edge. How could anyone work with their nose pressed against a computer screen? It makes no sense, and I am certain it would have given me a serious headache to use it like that. Of course, I still remember the days when people placed their monitors on top of telephone books, in an effort to make them as high as possible and strain their necks. That made no sense either.

The first thing that I wondered about, however, was how the hell anyone could sit in her chair? It's the same chair as mine, but it has been organized to make it produce only discomfort and pain. (I should point out that there is an even more uncomfortable chair at our reference desk. We have a staff member who transforms this chair into a device of torture every night. Sitting in this chair has given me insights into the practice of medieval torture.

Don't believe me? Imagine sitting in a chair that causes your feet to lift from the ground and your buttocks to feel as though they have been placed into a vice and pulled down towards the floor. It's probably what sitting in a nutcracker would be like. Both chairs suck.

P.S. Just as I was writing this, someone came in to tell me that I can return to my messy office. Hooray! Back to my comfy chair and sane environment. Oh, happy days.

Reading

Some recent reads.

Great Expectations by Charlie Dickens - It's difficult to believe that I had never read any Dickens until recently. I have no explanation for that omission. I took Great Expectations on the airplane with me and dipped into it from time to time during the trip. Part of it was ruined by the fact that I had seen most of that dreadful film adaptation with Robert De Niro. Oh, man, did that suck. So, I was aware of the plot in general. At the conclusion, I decided that I need to read more Dickens, and so I am currently reading Oliver Twist.

Beside the Ocean of Time by George Mackay Brown - I am amazed that this writer is not more famous. True, he is dead, but one can be famous and dead, right? I mean, he didn't die that long ago, after all. Still, he is dead, and people sometimes forget about the dead, except for Elvis, JFK, and Kurt Cobain, and if my information is correct, Elvis is alive somewhere in the American midwest eating donuts and deep fried bacon and peanut butter sandwiches. That must be the life. Being a dead writer must not be so glamorous. Well, Shakespeare is fondly remembered. Anyway, George Mackay Brown wrote lots of books: poems, stories, novels, non-fiction, etc. He was a real writer. Now, he is dead. The good news is that you can catch up and read everything because it's not like he is going to write anything else. Dead people don't tend to write very much, although there always seems to be something else found in papers and notebooks, just like when singers die and the record companies decide to release songs that were never meant to see the light of day. Or, the company releases a bunch of live stuff or simply repackages songs in a never-ending stream of best of and greatest hits packages, as has happened with The Smiths. But, wait, they are all still alive. Just imagine what might happen when they pass on.

The Three Cornered Hat by Pedro Antonio de Alarcón: -This is a short lusty tale set in 18th Century Andalusia featuring a rather ugly magistrate who tries to seduce the Miller's gorgeous wife. It features clothes swapping, mistaken identities, misunderstandings, midnight escapades, etc. It's like something Chaucer might have written. It's a fast but enjoyable read.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Wednesday morning - my modem/router seems to be dead. I unplug it for the day and hope for the best when I get back that evening.

Wednesday evening - my modem/router is dead. I call Sympatico and get put through a series of maneuvers that I already attempted with no luck, but I play along anyway. The verdict: they are sending me a new modem/router. I should expect it to arrive "in a few days."

Thursday morning - No hot water! I go downstairs and note that the basement tenant is doing laundry. Can he have used all of the hot water? It could be so...

later Thursday morning - I accidentally smash a plate on the floor. I get the broom. I cycle to work without a shower.

Thursday evening - Still no hot water. I think I can hear the dryer still running in the basement. I call the tenant but his phone is out of service. I knock on his door and get no answer. I enter, fearing that something must be wrong. The floor is flooded with water, most of it heading towards a floor drain. I switch off the dryer, which clearly has been running all day.

still Thursday evening - I call the gas company and get a four-hour service window for the next day. I shut the water off to prevent any more damage.

Friday morning - I call work to say that I am not coming in because of my plumbing issues and add that I cannot work from home owing to a lack of internet connectivity. I volunteer to take a vacation day, leaving me with only 8 more weeks this year. Somehow, I have amassed a large amount of vacation :-)

Friday noonish - Gas person shows up within the last 20 minutes of his four-hour service window. My heater is dead, something I already knew. A replacement tank will arrive in two hours.

Friday afternoon - Hot water tank shows up 3.5 hours later. It's installed in 45 minutes. I spend precious time cleaning up the mess. While it's being installed, I watch my neighbour back out of his driveway and knock over a tank the repair dudes left sitting by the side of the road. The driver looks around quickly and decides to flee.

Friday afternoon - I illegally connect to a very very slow open internet connection and discover that the power to my office at work has been shut down. What would I have been able to do at work had I been there, I wonder?

Monday morning - I roll into work and have no office, so I make inquiries. No one seems to have considered where I should set up a temporary office. I seek out a student computer lab, where I now sit. I am thinking of grabbing a laptop from our tech guys (once they show up) and heading to a green space outside, since it's about 95 degrees in this building anyway because of some sort of building-wide AC issue.

Maybe I should go home and go back to bed?

More Proof that the World is Ending

My sister now has a Facebook account. While you may not think that this is strange, let me put it into context. It would sort of be like finding out that your mother has been a CIA agent for the last 25 years, or that your 85 year-old grandmother is a swinger.

Star Trek

My one short review is: well, it didn't suck, but I thought it would have been better.

I have seen all of the films and many of the episodes from the various TV series. I liked the idea of rebooting the franchise with a new cast and a new look. In that respect, I would say that this film was far more successful than Enterprise, the lame Star Trek prequel series, made interesting mostly because of Jolene Blalock ;-) Well, and the doctor character was really good. Other than that, it stank pretty much, but I watched it anyway, hoping that it would get better.

As much I as like Leonard Nimoy, and as much as I truly believe that the character of Spock is perhaps the best character created in the Star Trek Universe -- except for T'Pol, of course -- it must be evident by now that Leonard Nimoy is not such a great actor. I didn't really like that part of the story line, maybe because his part in the development of the plot was rushed over way too fast. On the other hand, Sylar as Spock kind of works.

The movie is certainly enjoyable: there is lots of action, lots of things explode, people die. The movie does not drag at all. I didn't really see the need for the Kirk car chase flashback scene at all. I would have left that strip of film on the cutting room floor.

So, I give it a 7/10. Last night, my rating was a 6, but it improved with sleep. So that, ladies and gentlemen, is my lass ass review.

By the way, after the show, we caught Tales of the Uncanny, a 90-year-old silent German film at Dundas Square. A live soundtrack was contributed by Robert Lippok, Owen Pallett, and Do Make Say Think, one of my favourite bands. Sadly, the rain interfered. Damn you Mother Nature!

I've got the Toronto Cycling Blues

It takes only a visit to the bike-friendly parts of Europe to realize that Toronto's cycling infrastructure sucks eggs. Rolling into Amsterdam on the train, I looked out my window and could not believe what I saw. There were literally thousands of bicycles parked at the train station. So numerous were the bikes, that platforms for bike parking had been constructed to accommodate them all.

Throughout the city, bikes are everywhere, taking up all of the available parking spots. In fact, with so many bikes, there are not enough places to lock the bikes, so people have resorted to locking the wheel to the frame and then propping the bike on its kickstand or leaning it against a wall. Many bike parking shelters lack any secure object that one could use to lock the bike.

The most amazing thing is the network of bike lanes, complete with traffic signals just for bikes! There are pedestrian signals, car signals and bike signals. And, what's more impressive is that these bikes lanes are generally separated from traffic. Amsterdam is a bike paradise.

Other things I noticed:

- no one wears helmets
- most of the bikes are old-school, with few or no gears and ancient brakes
- no bike cops to be seen anywhere
- people talk on cell phones and text message while riding or driving scooters
- they pile as many people on bikes or scooters as possible

Really, we saw lots of people doubling (which I think is illegal here). I saw entire families on one scooter. We saw a woman carrying a baby in a sling on a scooter with two other kids on the back. There are bikes with huge wooden "wheelbarrows" at the front where you can drop several kids or a family of four. People are adept at riding bikes, and the only thing I saw that might have one-upped anything we saw in Amsterdam was a man in Geneva who was cycling while picking his nose. Now that probably requires a great deal of concentration.

Back in TO, I felt really nervous getting back on my bike, despite having been a year-round cyclist for years. It seems wrong to put bikes on the road with huge cars and trucks. On the second day of riding after my return, some idiot is a yellow car turned right without shoulder-checking and almost took me out. He should have to re-sit his road-test to remind him that mirrors are not enough, especially while driving on a road with a bike lane clearly marked in white paint.

Toronto languishes in the dark ages of cycling, while Europe is living the dream. This sucks and it really pisses me off.

1 in 70,000,000

I recently read that the odds of being in a plane crash and dying are one in seventy million. Another article I read put the odds at one in five hundred thousand. The second source added that, statistically, you could survive as many as four out of five crashes. Either way, these are pretty good odds.

The first piece of news we heard after landing last week was that Air France flight 447 had gone missing. I haven't done the calculations, but it is possible that we were in the air when that plane crashed. The news kind of freaked me out.

I have never really been afraid of flying, but the thought that the aircraft might fall from the sky while I am on it always crosses my mind whenever I board an airplane. It strikes me as a particularly heinous was to die. If I could rank the ways in which I would like to pass on, a plane crash would be at the very bottom, right after immolation.

So, I was very happy to be on firm ground in my part of the world, where I could do such peaceful things as navigate the streets of Toronto on a bike, something that seems far more dangerous having been to bike-friendly Europe. But, more on that later.

Here is another tiny elevator:

With backpacks on, we often had to enter the elevator backwards or exit backwards. It was difficult to turn around. This elevator was so narrow, I could not stand sideways in it, as it was not wide enough for my shoulders.

Relaxing in le jardin du Luxembourg

That's the Luxembourg Palace in the distance, just beyond my feet and the palm tree. It was all quite relaxing and wonderful until the skies opened up. Sure, we had umbrellas, but what we really needed was an Ark.

There are Some Small Elevators in Paris



I am in another all-day meeting...

The Numbers

Countries visited - 4
Cities visited - 11
Days away - 21
Flights - 2
Flight delays - 1
Train trips - 18
Train delays - 0
Times getting on the wrong train - 1
Times booted from 1st class for accidentally sitting there - 2
Times harassed for being in 1st class, despite having valid tickets - 1
Bus trips - 2
Boat trips - 2
Boat trips to unexpected destinations - 1
Photos taken - 1172
Videos shot - 2
Propositions received from prostitutes - 1
Hours spent in bed recovering from the flu - 58
Items accidentally smashed in a supermarket - 1
Accidents witnessed (bike vs car) - 1
Red light districts seen - 3
Comedic tram conductors encountered in Amsterdam - 3
Workmen accidentally locked into office and then freed - 1
Baptisms attended - 1
Glasses of champagne consumed after baptism - several...
Percentage improvement in my French after champagne - 100%
Number of Polish waitresses who couldn't understand French in Geneva - 1
Dutch words I learned - 3
Euros left over - 20
Swiss Francs left over - 15
Roast chickens eaten - too many to count

Back in Town

After three weeks away, I have returned.  The last six days in Switzerland were lacking any sort of internet connection. Anyway, I am tired and need sleep as I stupidly did not take tomorrow off from work :-(  Good night.

Sick :-(

I started feeling funny while walking around Bruges, and by the time we got back to the hotel in Brussels, I collapsed into the bed and stayed there for 38 hours, only getting up so we could take the train back to Paris, where, upon arrival, I crawled into another bed for 20 hours.  All that is left is a nasty stomach bug, but it started with a fever, chills, headaches, body aches, nightmares, lack of energy, loss of appetite. I haven't really eaten in almost three days.  Whatever I try to eat is expelled by my body with great speed.  I feel marginally better, but still have no appetite, although I managed to eat a banana a few minutes ago.  Being sick while travelling sucks.

Brussels

 

Have arrived.  No sign of JCVD. But, there was no sign of Gerard Depardieu, despite assurances that he is renovating a house close to our accommodations. 

En route to Brussels

On the train, with free wifi :-)

Rotterdam

Had lunch in Rotterdam.  It's an OK town, but I prefer Amsterdam.  Tomorrow, we are off to Belgium.

Today

Off to the eastern docklands this morning, and then to Rotterdam.

Another Email Update

 

We went to the Van Gogh Museum in the morning, and then hopped a train to Den Haag, where we had lunch.

Today in Amsterdam (so far)

Anne Frank House and Vondelpark.

Red Lights and Marijuana

 

I love Blogger's email update function.  We strolled through the red light district last night.  Earlier, we noted that the B&B had given us some comlimentary marijuana.  I never expected that.  Today, we are off to Anne Frank House, among other things.

In Amsterdam!

It's raining here too.  I have never seen so many bicycles.  It's amazing!

It's Raining in Paris

Been to la tour Eiffel, walked down L'avenue des Champs-Élysées, and visited L'Arc de triomphe de l'Étoile. Too bad about the rain, however.

In Gay Paris

Arrived safely after one of those all-night flights.  Slept little, so am very tired.  Can see the Eiffel Tower from the window.  So far, my French training has paid off.

One More Thing

I am trying this email posting option again.  Last time I tried it, it did not work.  So, here goes...

Heading for Europe

The flight is today. I might try to update the blog from time-to-time, but I am making no promises. I'll be back in three weeks.

Still Alive

Yeah, I am still around, but busy with work and the like. You may hear even less from me for the next month, as I am leaving for Europe for three weeks one week from today. Tomorrow, I am off to a conference (one day), and I have a few other things to take care of before then, like getting Euros. Also, I am desperately in need of a haircut, but my hairdresser has gone to Korea for a month. What to do? What to do?

...been distracted

by lots of things, like work, swine flu, new music...

Tasty!

I just ate half of one of those damned stickers on fruit. I guess I forgot to remove it and suddenly, only half was left. I am thinking about starting a petition to eliminate these annoying things. After all, most cashiers already know the codes for common fruits and vegetables. Why do we need stickers on fruit and vegetables!

Damn those Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses

I feel like I am being pursued by troops of religions zealots everywhere I go recently. They come to my door; they accost me on the streets; they interfere with my life. At least I get to direct some hostility towards them when they attempt to capture me in their tentacles.

Like the other day, when it was clear that I was busy doing stuff at the front of my house and was engaged with the coming and going of people. Two brain-washed instruments of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints interjected themselves into my personal space, asking if they could talk to me about shit. No way, dudes. I should say that I appreciate what the Mormons have done for Genealogy, though I disapprove of the reason behind these initiatives.

On the weekend, while walking away from a birthday party with les enfants, three well-dressed Mormons set upon me. Being someone that does not carry a gun, I had to try to talk my way through it, trying my best not to get them angry, lest they attack. I considered playing dead, but I couldn't remember if that worked for Mormons or the Jehovah's Witnesses. I also considered making loud grunting noises, hoping that such an action might scare them off. One has to be careful, for I have heard that they can spit venom into your eyes.

And then, this morning, on my way to work, an ancient pair of Jehovah's Witnesses approached me. It looked like the pathetic duo was simply lost and needed directions. I am happy to give directions, or make up something that sounds plausible, but then, the geriatric man unfurled his copy The Watchtower, like he was trying to interest me in illicit pornographic materials. Sadly, it was a copy of something that is not good enough to grace the bottom of a lizard cage.

So, now, I am considering compiling a list of the most offensive things I could say to these and other religious groups. If you know of any, please tell me. In the meantime, the next time I am offered a copy of The Watchtower or Awake!, I am going to reply with one of the following:

"Why, thank you very much! I am out of toilet paper!"
"Sorry, I gave all of my money to the Mormons."
I will utter the name Jehovah 237 times.

Of course, if it's the Mormons, I will have to say something like:

"When will incestuous lovers Donny and Marie be promoted to Sainthood in your church?"
"Orgazmo was the best movie ever made!"

Loblaws is not Green

I am ready to ditch Bell Mobility because it is over-priced and unfriendly. I looked around at tons of plans, both prepaid and monthly, and my conclusion is that they all suck. Canada is probably the most expensive place on the planet for cell phones plans. There should be a new carrier in Canada, hopefully by next year, so I decided to stay away from monthly plans that tie you down for 2 to 3 years. The good thing about monthly plans is cheap phones; the bad is the monthly costs. The good thing about pay-as-you-go is all of the free stuff, like voice mail, call display, etc. The bad news is expensive phones. So, I had an idea.

President's Choice Telecom (Loblaws, in other words) has a very cheap pay-as-you-go option. It is operated by Bell Mobility. A light bulb went off in my head. "I'll switch to PC, keep my cell phone, and keep my eye out for future deals." Foiled again.

It seems that one must purchase a new phone to use PC Telecom. I had a circular argument with the Customer Service person about this. She insisted that the phones are different. I insisted that the Bell network protocol is CDMA, or Code Division Multiple Access. If that describes the Bell network, it also describes the PC network because, as it says right on the page: "Services provided in PC mobile coverage areas by Bell Mobility."

The turnover in cell phones is insane. People keep upgrading and chucking the old ones into landfill sites. This makes no sense to me. Surely, if Loblaws wanted to be a good corporate citizen, it would permit the use of compatible phones. But, we really know that it is all about profit.

I rarely shop at Loblaws because it is expensive and inconvenient, but I think I might change the rarely to never, if they can't accommodate a simple request. I am awaiting a reply to a message I just sent, but I have no expectations of success. Too bad for them: they have lost a potential customer.

Trapped

in a meeting all day :-(

Facts on Farts

After yesterday's lengthy post, what else could I post but something about flatulence? Facts on Farts is funny. It has well-written answers to several of your burning questions about farting. I realize that I promised never to write author post on this topic, but shit happens.

On Jacket Holding, Photography, and the AGO (very long)

Imagine being told that you are holding your jacket improperly while perusing the art on display at an art gallery. That happened to me on Saturday, when I finally managed to check out the renovated AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario). But first, this other AGO story:

I knew that I wanted to take photos of the Frank Gehry makeover, so I made sure that I familiarized myself with AGO's revised photography guidelines. My reading of this policy boiled down to this: you can take photos of lots of things, as long as it is not an installation or piece of art. Let's avoid, for the moment, the crazy and indefensible argument that there are copyright restrictions that prevent the gallery from permitting photography of its exhibits. Wait, let's not avoid that. Let me say that the AGO has no idea what it is talking about. Photos of exhibits for personal use or for criticism or study cannot be restricted by the copyright act and it is clear that this policy is really concerned with profit-making motives, from sales of postcards, etc. I have taken photos in the Met and MOMA with no problem at all. Clearly, there needs to be a no flash and no tripod rule.

Maybe this is a good place to mention that the current admission costs are crazy. $18 for an adult? I think that if the AGO lowered admission prices, they'd get more visitors. I might go more often.

But, back to the story. I took photos of the barnacle staircase, Walker Court, and the Galleria Italia, as permitted, even though the latter contains exhibits, which contravenes AGO's own policy! Whatever. After peering out a window, I turned around and saw a colorful wall. Here is part of it:


A security guard ran over to tell me that this was off limits to photography. Now, I took the photo because I thought it was an interior design element. Turns out, it was art. Who knew? After all, it fit the wall perfectly, and even continued into that little space above a door frame. In other words, it looked like wall paper. Which leads me to wonder why so many installations at the AGO are designed to perfectly fit available space. As such, some seem like artificial creations. I wonder about the idea of creating a piece of art to fit a gallery space exactly, like this one.

Anyway, Mr. Security gave me the lecture, which I already knew, but the dude wouldn't accept my explanation. He just kept going over it and over it. When he finally stopped talking, I ran ahead and to catch up with my two friends. Imagine my surprise when I saw people snapping photos left, right, and centre of all manner of exhibits, throughout our stay. The difference is that they all had point & shoot digital cameras or cell phone cameras. No security intervened. I even saw people in tour snapping photos with not a single word from the tour guide. These days, if you have an SLR, you are either a terrorist or some sort of copyright pirate.

I guess I should also point out that I had no intention of running around photographing every piece of art, but I would have taken shots of two or three things, if I could have, but that's it. I was there to look at the art, not photograph it. By the way, have you seen that advertisement for Prince Edward Island (or some other Maritime province) on TV that features the interior of AGO in contravention of AGO's stated policy? I guess if you have the cash, then copyright really doesn't mean anything.

So far, not so interesting, right? Well, two hours later in some other part of the gallery, a different security guard informed me that I was carrying my jacket improperly and in such a way that might "impact the art." Jesus! I passed numerous security personnel and no one had made such a comment. This guy clearly has issues. Besides the fact that I had never ventured close enough to accidentally come into contact with any art, I am a grown man and quite aware of my personal space. I considered insulting his shoes, but decided to continue on my way to a section with less anally-retentive, less authoritarian security guards.

But, back to photography. I would have thought that the AGO would relish the idea of someone posting a story on the web about a recent visit to the gallery, maybe with a few images, to show the world how wonderful it is. That would be good (and free) publicity. Instead, the AGO just makes a few people angry, who then write posts like this, which is bad (and free) publicity. If you follow the link to the photography guidelines, you will note that many of the comments are from people pissed off by the policy.

I am not sure what was worse: the restrictions on photography or the ludicrous jacket carrying policy. Whetever the case, it will probably be a while before I am ready to return and confront the praetorian guards.

(Oh, and I didn't mention the other incident, mostly because this is way too long already).

One-Day Conference

I guess this is a good thing to do on a rainy Friday. The bad news is that I am all wet, because of my lousy rain gear. I hopped on my bike in the light rain, and, a few minutes later, it felt like I was riding in a shower, albeit a cold one. All of my clothes were completely soaked when I arrived and I spent some time using a hand dryer in a washroom in an attempt to dry myself out, but to no avail. It had no effect at all. Yet, slowly, I am drying out. I hope this does not lead to a cold or something worse, like death.

Now, I guess I should pay attention.

Two Funny Statements

1) From the almost-four-year-old:

I dreamed I ate a fly's nose last night.

2) From the almost-eight-year-old, upon seeing a cartoon featuring an old white man as American President:

They have some old strange white guy as president! Change it Barack!

Roasted Baby Hippo

During my undergrad, we joked that the "Hip of Beef" served in the cafeteria was really "Hip of Beast" or Hip o' Beast." I have learned that this curious label is ubiquitous. Students far and wide use an identical nomenclature. Hilarious. But, enough of that.

Imagine being served a plate upon which stood a tiny roasted hippopotamus! It measured no longer than seven inches from tip to tail with, perhaps, a two inch inseam. As for height, well, I would guess six inches at most. Nothing else was on the plate, just a tiny hippo that was able to stand, despite having been roasted. No veggies, no potatoes, no rice: just a tiny semi-aquatic even-toed ungulate.

Now, I am not one to panic at the prospect of undercooked food, but my hippo looked a bit rare. The hippo served to C, beside me, looked similarly undercooked, but C did not seem to mind. She prodded it with knife and fork, looking for convenient points of cleavage, and I believe she found one, though the caudal.

Rewards offered for dream-interpretation.

Why?

Does he really think this is going to keep his ass safe? The bigger question might be why the dude decided to leave his artwork behind. Is he that proud of his creation? At least he flushed, unlike the dude who used the adjoining stall. That one was ripe. Sadly, this is the closest john to my office, one that I am forced to share with the unwashed public, and I use that term loosely, as the sinks here double as foot-washing fixtures. (I know, certain cultures place great value on regular foot washing, but it doesn't please me to see a man with one foot in the sink, soon to be followed by the other).

And then there's the spitting. The sinks are often coated in it. No one flushes the urinals and the toilets are often not flushed, so it usually stinks. There is always toilet paper on the floors. Many men seem to prefer peeing in the privacy of a stall, and I have yet to encounter a single man in this bathroom who has the courtesy to lift the seat. As a result, the seats are usually covered in piss.

Naturally, I normally travel to a different floor to use a bathroom. What I really want to do is post a Bathroom Etiquette sign. Even the staff bathroom on a different floor has sign above the urinal asked the men to flush after use. If you have to ask staff to do this, you have a problem. Public washrooms are disgusting, but you didn't need me to tell you that, did you?

Je suis très occupé

Super Happy Jen a suggéré that it's about time pour une new post. "Time for a new post, Z" she says. OK, so how about this? Pendant Monday's class de français we all had to do a short présentation. No problemo, as Bart would say, or, pas de problème, as I now say.

Aside from not even recognizing some de the people who have been dans cette class pour weeks, I really had a chance to écouter to the wide range of French language skills. En général, tout le monde did a good job, mais j'ai été étonné at some of the accents. Une femme en particulier, spoke like she had quelque chose lodged in her mouth. When she a dit "je peux" it sounded comme "je purr." Maybe elle est half chat.

Le chatty Cathy, who parle tout le temps en class, was not so happy to donner sa présentation. Je pense that elle est très shy, ou quelque chose. Je ne sais pas.

Later, we have l'examen orale et l'examen written.

King Missile

I was reminded of King Missile last night when the concept of a detachable penis was raised, but I can't for the life of me remember why that topic came up. The embedding function has been disabled for this song, but you can still watch the video at Youtube, although I am not sure that this is the real video. Of course, this reminds me of:

Jesus was Way Cool



and, I am a Sensitive Artist



Whatever happened to King Missile?

Reading Update

Darren Greer - Still Life with June: Two words describe this book: disappointing and unbelievable. The BIG BAD thing made me grimace, the characters' motivations are largely not believable, some plot threads are abandoned part way through, and the whole book has an air of falseness to it. Greer is not such a bad writer, but this novel just does not work. It's a mystery how it found a publisher. Even more of a mystery is how I managed to fight my way to the end.

Ken Kalfus - A Disorder Peculiar to the Country: This might be the first novel I have read that features 9/11. Kalfus places a married couple going through a protracted and painful divorce in the midst of destruction and national confusion. The result is unexpected, humorous, and deeply troubling. I found the story to be gripping and real. Clearly, Kalfus has confidence in his writing and has created a well-paced book with not a single wasted word.

Ian McEwan - On Chesil Beach is a perfectly-written novella. It's supposed to be a novel, but novella is a much better word. In fact, it's more like a long short story. Part of me wished McEwan would have added 50 pages, but then that would take away from the central story, an interesting newlywed encounter gone wrong.

Pink

Last week, the student sitting behind me in French class was wearing a pink shirt with a tie.

Since the time I finally finished University, after three degrees, I have taken a few night classes. Currently, I am nearing the conclusion of my third French class. I have taken 4 or 5 writing classes, and a bunch of photography classes, mostly so I could get access to darkrooms, before I went digital. Dylan went electric; I went digital, and one person even called me Judas.

Last night, the student (a different one) sitting in front of me was wearing a pink shirt. I believe that he is the source of the noxious gas. It makes me wonder if he saves it up for our class. Why, I want to ask, but I am not really sure if he is to blame.

As an aide, I look back on my early days at University and wonder where the energy came from. I procrastinated then, but not as much as I do now. I am unrepentant. But then, I could procrastinate and then stay up to 3:30 AM writing about early modern political theory. Don't ask me to do that now. I can stay up for nothing.

There was a brief period of time when I wore pink. I had a pink golf shirt (collar down, if you must know) and a pink dress shirt that I often wore with a tie and sometimes a jacket. I often felt that my rugged masculinity contrasted nicely with the soft pink - the whole combination making the ladies swoon.

Test number two was last night and I had a strong nostalgic feeling. I had no panic, mind you, just a feeling like I had never left high school. I cleared my desk of all books, but retained two pens. I watched our prof hand out the test. Then, when the word was given, I scribbled my name and proceeded. I am not convinced that a test-based curriculum is the best way to instruct adults in learning a second or third language.

Tim was probably the first man I knew who felt that he was manly enough to wear pink. After a week at the construction site, he could break free on weekends: pink shirt, tie bar, shiny shoes, too much after shave, and a bit of classic rock (which, in his definition, was Phil Collins and Queen). It may have been his gay-positive side leaking out, but I am sure he would deny it. Oh, and there was Bill, too. I think he wore pink to reaffirm his masculinity, but we all knew he would eventually come out. Not that's there's anything wrong with being gay.

I have no plans to bring back the pink. As I get older, my wardrobe gets darker and darker. I must be in mourning.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Four Years Later

So, like my watch strap broke four years ago. A few days ago, I finally got around to buying a new one. I told you that I am an unrepentant procrastinator, as you can tell by the frequency with which I have been updating this blog. I hope that improves.

Oh, yeah, I have a Blog

Why do all cell phone plans suck? That is the question of the day. They all suck. Big time. Why? Please tell me.

ET

As if Entertainment Tonight isn't brain-numbing enough, we have Entertainment Tonight Canada. I can discern only a few differences.

1) The Canadian program occasionally throws in references to the odd Canadian celebrity. Other than that, it's a carbon copy.

2) The Canadian program is not obsessed with the so-called Octomon, which sounds to me like Spiderman's nemesis. Who really gives a sh*t about this insane woman?

3) The Canadian program has not struck some sort of clandestine deal with Satan...I mean the Osmond Family. How else can one reasonably explain the never-ending Donny and Marie appearances on the show? Is this 1976? Does anyone really care what Marie Osmond is doing?

But, both programs fail in rather spectacular fashion when it comes to any sort of critical analysis. Every movie, every show, every piece of insipid music is greeted with love and blind adoration. Why does Dancing with the C-list Celebrities get so much airtime? I have never heard of most of these people.

Oh, and there's one other thing that is irritating. The Canadian program's male host (Rick the Temp) has the voice 13 year old transsexual.

A Few Hours in the Life of ZF

6:40 - Woke up, well before I usually do, so that I could get to the passport office by 8:00.

7:00 - Reading email on my laptop during breakfast. Nature's Path has recalled a gluten-free granola-type bar because of salmonella. UPC and expiry dates match. Crap! I have already eaten 5 of the 6 bars :-( Can I sue them?

7:53 - Waited in line at the passport office, with form completed. Stupidly, I let my passport expire, and had to submit a new application. Next time, renewal. I have no confidence in the photo, but it will do for the next 5 years.

8:26 - Back outside, unlocked my bike. Bureaucracy has rarely been so efficient. What a great day: could be 16 degrees later.

9:30 - Checked my mail box to discover two cheques: $130 and $790. I wish they were really for me. Do I look like the Accounts Receivable Department?

9:33 - Checked Twitter. I am Twittering as an experiment. In library-land, Twitter is a big deal, so I decided to see what the fuss is all about. So far, I have mixed feelings. 140 characters might not be enough. Close-talker is now following me :-(

9:35 - Read email. So much garbage, and I don't necessarily mean spam.

9:46 - Remembered to start streaming Radio RFI en français.

9:48 - Absolutely delighted to learn that John Tory has gone down in flames, again. Three strikes and you're out. Stay down, John.

9:49 - Checked Facebook. Cleared my out-of-date status. I am friends with a photographer who lives in Gaza. His photo albums are very disturbing, powerful and profoundly depressing. A few photos depict unspeakable horror: a charred baby with no limbs; people lying in pools of blood. Most of us have never witnessed anything like this in person. How did he avoid getting shot in the process of taking these photos?

9:50 - Ordered a book requested by a faculty member.

10:00 - Updated photoblog and added a photo to Flickr. No death or grievous bodily harm in my photos.

10:15 - Made appointment with my doctor.

10:20 - Opened PowerPoint to revise my part of a joint presentation with a colleague on research methods. We did the first presentation last week. It goes again next week. His part is esoteric, bizarre, a tad self-indulgent. Mine is practical. We seem to be at odds.

10:28 - Feeling hungry already.

Busy Busy Busy

Or, at least it feels that way. Maybe I keep forgetting to write stuff here. Today, I had meetings and stuff. Tomorrow, I am being treated to another all-day meeting. I am actually hoping that it is not all day, so I can get some stuff done later. Mostly, I want to go grocery shopping.

Here's a song I like:

Dollhouse

I am busy today, so here are 50 words about Dollhouse:

Dollhouse generally sucks. I only wish I hadn't wasted three hours of my life watching the first three lame ass episodes. The worst thing is that I can't stand Eliza Dushku's voice. Man, it's so grating. Dollhouse will be canceled soon enough anyway, if Fox does what it usually does.

Japanese Binocular Soccer

I kid you not:

Reading Update

Sky Gilbert - English Gentleman: For me, this was not an enjoyable read. It was more like a labour, and not one of love. Maybe it's because I have never read Peter Pan and have never seen any movie or play of Peter Pan. Maybe it's because we used to make fun of Peter Pan. In fact, as children, when we didn't like someone's boots or shoes, we called them "Peter Pan getaway boots." I found the massive amount of fictitious correspondence to be rather tedious, though I will admit that it was very well done. In the end, I guess I really don't care very much about the real or fake James Barrie. I was happy when I reached the last page. I give this book 3/5.

Justin Cartwright - White Lightning: I have no idea why Justin Cartwright is not more famous. His writing appears to be effortless and he's a true pleasure to read. I can't possibly give this novel the praise it deserves here, so if you are interested, I recommend this review. I give this book 4.7/5.

Geoff Nicholson - Still Life with Volkswagens: Every now and then, one has to read something funny, something bizarre, really. How about Neo-Nazi skinheads, exploding Volkswagens, Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, and Adolf Hitler? I will have to read the first book, Street Sleeper. You might want to start with it too. I give this book 3.9/5.

Michael Winter - The Big Why: I thoroughly enjoyed This All Happened, Winter's first novel, but I would wager that this one is better. It is a thought-provoking fictional portrayal of Rockwell Kent's time in Newfoundland. Winter is someone who is clearly at ease with all facets of the English language, and one thing that impressed me is his mastery of dialogue and wit. I give this book 4.3/5.

J.M. Coetzee - In the Heart of the Country: I would describe this book as being a very challenging read, but probably one that is worthwhile. In truth, I have enjoyed some of Coetzee's other books more, but there is something compelling about this one, though it is at times a frustrating reading experience. I give this book 4.2/5.

Oscars, part 11

Here is a prediction. Someday, an American production company will film an Americanized version of Slumdog Millionaire, probably under the title of Redneck Millionaire. As we know, there is a paucity of ideas in Hollywood. If there is any justice, Regis Philbin will get to play Regis Philbin. Who knows, maybe he will win an Academy Award.

Oscars, part 10

Good night.

Oscars, part 9

Why did they drop the brief clip when nominations are read? I miss that reminder or example. Instead, we see a bunch of clips of former winners accepting their awards. This makes no sense to me.

Oscars, part 8

Best Original Song: I was happy to learn that Peter Gabriel withdrew from the Awards. He felt that the one minute allotted to him for his performance was too short, and I have to agree. They should have cut the Hugh Jackman songs and allowed the nominated songs to be performed in their entirety.

Oscars, part 7

It's Heath. No surprise there. A few sad moments here. But, my question is: why does Kevin Kline persist with a mustache?

Oscars, part 6

I will say it: the Oscars are boring this year, very boring. Hugh Jackman singing and dancing doesn't help either. His second number is painful, unlistenable really. Where is Billy Crystal?

Oscars, part 5

[Gluten-free cake break].

Oscars, part 4

Thank god count = 1.

In other news, I think my knives are too sharp. I keep cutting myself on these new ones. My old knives were so dull, it took a good deal of effort to cut anything. These ones are so sharp, I can cut myself and not feel a thing, not notice until the blood drips onto the salad.

Oscars, part 3

Tina Fey and Steve Martin made me laugh.

Oscars, part 2

The set seems claustrophobic to me, like they don't really have enough space. Why do they insist on all of this looking back stuff? No wonder the show is so long. Do we really need to be reminded of who won Oscars 70 years ago?

What ever happened to Ted Danson? I wonder this while watching Whoopi Goldberg. What's up with Goldie Hawn's boobs?

I think they might need more draconian methods of keeping the thank you speeches shorter, like maybe a trap door that winners can be dropped through should they rattle on too long, like Penelope Cruz.

Oscars, part 1

It's not over, but I can already say that Hugh Jackman's opening number is kind of dumb. Dude can sing, but I am not enjoying this at all. Where is Billy Crystal?

Red Carpet #2

Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes is brilliant casting, if you ask me. I am looking forward to that movie. I thought he was great in Wonder Boys. I loved that film.

I feel sorry for those accountants. Their tuxes just never look as good and they can't really get away with anything cutting-edge.

Red Carpet

As long as I don't have to see Joan Rivers on the red carpet, I will be happy. So far, this evening is Joan-free, and that is making me somewhat less cynical, but I am annually mystified by this spectacle of "who are you wearing?" One year, someone will walk down the red carpet with a real person draped over them. That would be something to see. Anyway, I give two thumbs up to Freida Pinto. She is quite a fetching lass.

Ban Telemarketing!

More than 3.3 million numbers were registered on the national Do-Not-Call List within a few days of it going live. So many people tried to access it, that it crashed only a few minutes after opening on its first day!

The CRTC projects that 60% of Canadians will eventually add their numbers to the list. I assume that many of the remainder are simply too busy or lazy to add their numbers. You know, like those who failed to exercise their democratic right to vote in our last election. All of this leads me to a not-so-radical solution, which is to ban telemarketing, or to make it opt-in only.

Let me repeat, 60% of Canadians are expected to add their numbers to the list. We allow a party to govern that only won 38% of the popular vote. Far more people are opposed to telemarketing than are in favour of the current government, so what's the problem? The mad dash to the Do-Not-Call list is a de facto referendum on the practice. Canadians have rarely been in such agreement about anything at any time.

Of course, I added my number, and was informed that it will take some time (I can't remember how long) for the number to be really added. Oddly, the number of unwanted calls INCREASED immediately. I have had more calls from telemarketers than before I added my number! WTF? If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd have lots to say about that.

Personally, I hate telemarketing more than spam (the unsolicited email, not the dubious canned meat).

Shining 'cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned

It was cold yesterday morning, but not too cold. Minus 4 degrees Celsius, if I remember correctly. That's a fine cycling temperature. It's a hell of a lot better than plus 30, that's for sure. One sweats in those conditions, and risks arriving at work in need of a shower. Yeah, it's gross. On those days, I ride slowly, slowly. But yesterday, the roads were clear but not because the City of Toronto finally managed to properly clear the roads. The warm weather had intervened and returned the roads to a more cycling-friendly state. They were flat, ice-free, open.

At this time of year, I think people start hankering for spring. It's a bit too soon. Yesterday morning, I saw a guy cycling with no gloves and wearing only a fleece for warmth. Clearly, he suffers from delusions. Later, waiting at a traffic light (something many cyclists don't bother to do), I heard some music. At the next light, I realized that the music was coming from a car right beside me.

I guess he thought it was spring. The windows were down, the cold air flowing through his hair. If one is going to blast the tunes with the windows down, certain musical choices have to be made. Some music just doesn't work, especially in association with certain automobiles. I mean, you can't blast Madonna...well, unless you are driving a PT Cruiser or a VW Beetle or maybe even a Mini Cooper. I don't think it is OK to drive a muscle car are treat the neighbourhood to the musical stylings of ABBA, for example.

So, I look over and notice that this dude is driving a nondescript American-type car. Out of his windows came My Father's House, from Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska album. I was actually quite stunned. Most people on the planet consider Nebraska to be one of the most boring albums ever made. Not this guy: he had it cranked. But, I realized that his car agreed with the music.

This morning it is snowing again and the roads are being dusted in white.

PR Stunt?

I would say yes:

There are rumours that he is working on a mockumentary.

4 Day Weekend

I spent day one cleaning. I vacuumed the whole house, mopped the floors, ran the dishwasher, cleaned all of the crap out from under the kitchen sink. The bathroom awaits my attention. I also went grocery shopping and made a trip to get light bulbs, of all things. Oh, and I am cooking dinner right now. I would call this spring cleaning, except that there is no spring. I might have to do laundry too. But, that would lead to ironing, and I am not sure if this is a good day for that.

Music

Since my blogging enthusiasm is awaiting a reboot, I offer an update on some recent music acquisitions, in short, non-grammatical utterances.

Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes: Seattle dudes. Quintet, harmonic, baroque-ish, pop. Maybe Bob Dylan meets the Beach Boys.



The Most Serene Republic - Underwater Cinematographer: Not Venice. Milton's most famous band. Milton's only band? Indie rock.



David Byrne & Brian Eno - Everything that Happens will Happen Today: Electronic gospel? From two icons, the father of ambient music and that new wave dude. Good track, this one.

Running42K

For those of you who are wondering, yes, he is still alive, so stop worrying :-) We exchanged email today. Perhaps one day, he will make a reappearance, like New Kids on the Block did this year.

Grammy's, part 10

Album of the Year: Raising Sand :-) That's a good choice.

Grammy's, part 9

Paul McCartney with Dave Grohl wasn't too bad, I have to say.
I might get a hat, after seeing Jack Black sporting a hat. Why have I avoided hats for so much of my life? Why do the Grammy's wait until everyone is dead before giving them a lifetime achievement award?

Male Vocal Performance: bunch of garbage, but John Mayer is probably the least offensive.

Radiohead: Now that is a cool performance! I am sure this will be the pinnacle of the night.

Grammy's, part 8

Please Read the Letter is a great song. I am happy it won.

Grammy's, part 7

Stevie Wonder with the Jonas Brothers? Get real.
Blink 182 is back! Who cares?
Best Rock album: If there was any justice, the Raconteurs would have won.
That Katy Perry song is ridiculous, despite the positive message contained therein.
I wonder what people would say if I showed up dressed like Kayne West.

Grammy's, part 6

I am not a fan of the Kid Rock song (the one that rips off Lynard Skynard, but I will admit to liking the video. Miley Cyrus can't sing, or perhaps I should say that I hate her voice (even her speaking voice).

Thank God Robert Plant and Alison Krauss won. I love the album they recorded and, although I am a huge Led Zeppelin fan, I really don't care if the band ever tours again. I'd like the pair of them to make some more music, though. In other words, I am for new music.

Grammy's, part 5

Song of the year. Well, Coldplay was the best of the lot, if you ask me.

Grammy's, part 4

Speaking of musical messes, there's Carrie Underwood. What kind of ridiculous song is that? It just occurred to me that there is no host. Why? I guess I should point out that I really hate country music, so I have nothing to say about that category. Country music just sounds ridiculous to me, and I mean both in lyrics and in sound.

Grammy's, part 3

I don't hate Coldplay, but I am not a huge fan. They are OK. I was a bit mystified when I first heard Viva la Vida. It struck me as being a bit of a mess, or maybe I just didn't get it. I seriously do not get the duet with the rapper (whoever he is). The whole performance is a mess. Viva la Vida has grown on me a bit, but maybe I have just gotten used to it.

Grammy's, part 2

Whitney Houston sounds like she is on drugs.

Why do people (Jennifer Hudson, for example) thank God so much? I firmly believe that God has nothing to do with it.

Listening to Justin Timberlake sing along side Al Green highlights which one is really a singer and which one isn't.

Grammy's

While editing some photos, I kept one eye on the silly red carpet phenomenon. Who cares what people are wearing? Well, Paula Abdul looked ridiculous. And now, the show commences, and I will continue to keep one eye on it, because although I think that the Grammy's reward mediocrity, there are some good people nominated or performing, and I don't mean U2.

I finally got my very own MacBook :-) I wish. My laptop is having some age-related issues. I will need a new one soon. Too bad Macs are so expensive, because I'd really like one, especially a MacBook Pro.

I cycled again today on the coldest day of the year. The temperature was -20°C, or -28°C with the windchill, but probably more like -35°C with my self-generated windchill. My feet and face were kind of cold after the 7.2 KMs, but the rest of me was fine, I think.

Unfortunately, I heard a few bars of a song I loathe this morning, and now it is lodged in my brain. I really hate it when that happens.

Gran Torino

[...caution - spoiler ahead...]

I know, this movie is getting tons of love. It has won awards. It is raking in the dough. Critics say good things about it. People laud Eastwood's acting. Et moi? I am not so sure. I am not so easily convinced.

For one thing, the acting generally sucks. Someone cast a gang of actors that simply cannot act. Eastwood's acting is as to be expected. In other words, it is predictable. He speaks through clenched teeth like he is still Dirty Harry. He grunts, groans, and generally acts far cooler than is humanly possible for someone his age. But, that is not the problem.

I bet that the rest of the cast had never acted a day in their lives. It's not atrocious acting by any means, but it is wooden, stiff, and unbelievable. But, the major problem with Gran Torino is the transformation undergone by Eastwood's character. I don't buy it.

I don't buy his transformation from a racist jerk to a sympathetic angel willing to sacrifice his life for people he hated just a few days earlier. The audience salivates for a Dirty Harry bloodbath and are left wanting. Instead, we are left to ponder a huge self-sacrifice that is as troubling as it is unbelievable. And, the last sacrificial act violates one of the central tenants about the ethnic group he has come to know and understand: they don't talk, so all of the witnesses are useless and the last act is contradictory, pointless, and convenient.

On the other hand, the movie was free, so I don't feel robbed.

Post-Conference

Normally, I would provide a detailed post-conference review in which I poke fun at librarians and what not. Instead, I will offer this, my favourite conversation from the conference:

Fellow Librarian: "I heard that your session was excellent."
ZF: "Really? Who told you that?"
Fellow Librarian: "Your co-presenter."
ZF: "She did? Isn't that an odd thing to say about her own session?"
Fellow Librarian: "She said you are a really good speaker?"
ZF: "Oh, well, in that case."

Things should have slowed down after the conference, but I have to run off and do an instructional session. It never ends.