June, The Sweetest Month

I love June when the lilacs are in bloom and the air fills me with more optimism than at any other time of year. Ideas for summer projects are born as work begins to wind down. Travel plans are considered, vacation schemes hatched, and of course, I always think that I will have time enough to accomplish everything that I can think of during these heady early days at the start of the month. People in my office are happy and smiling as the end of work nears and its resumption so far away. Meetings are held out-of-doors on patios, or sitting among the fragrant grass and the sombre dress tones of winter are chased away by bright spring colours. Everything seems possible and near at hand.

June is hockey playoffs and BBQs. Late nights spent playing soccer or baseball with friends. Walks in the afternoon, pushing kids on swings or bikes. Slurpees and ice cream. Punk rock shows. Midnight movies leading into early morning coffees and enjoying the last few moments of quiet before the insanity of the Stampede.

What Sister Ray Said Most Popular Posts

I'm running Google Analytics on this site because I find the idea of web-based metrics interesting, especially considering that Google Analytics and Sitemeter often give different results. Add in the fact that I often post things to Twitter via bit.ly, which doesn't always show up in the metrics, nor does traffic contained within iPhone apps, such as viewing websites on Tweetie's in-app browser. It all presents a very ill-defined picture of what is happening in my (very) tiny corner of the web, but what little I do get to see is quite fascinating.

For example, it caught me by complete surprise that my throw comment about Calgary Mayor Dave Bronconnier's decision not to run for re-election has moved into the top five. On the otherhand, I've seen a lot of search results of people looking for Ebert's quote on Roman Polanski's Bitter Moon, so to see it crack the top five is understandable.

Further, it makes me chuckle to think that maybe there is something to the concept of the long time. I believe I've posted something related to my short story "Out of Time (Ped Xing)" several times and it's slowly creeping it's way to just outside the top five unique page views. Just a few more repeat posts...

Out of Time (Ped Xing)

(circa 1997)

My house was quiet. Every creak of every floorboard felt like some kind of giant thundering across the yard. I had been home all day alone, stuck in a funk, a bout of moodiness that hung around everything I did. I couldn’t shake it, so finally gave in, tired of the internal struggle. I called it quits and headed to bed before ten o’clock at night, only to find that now, a sudden restlessness had come over me and every sensory input fed me some kind of energy. I tossed and rolled, but to no avail. Looking for some shoes and loose change, I decided on a late night walk.

I headed to the home of Chris Scappio, night owl extraordinaire, hoping that he could provide me with the release that I was looking for. A soft glow emanated from his basement window, the frame still retained a hint of winter's snow, indicating that Chris was still up and about. I rapped on the pane of glass and headed towards the backdoor, where Chris met me.

"Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d drop by. Whatcha up to?"

"Work. Optimization. I'm almost done" He said, inviting me in, then heading back down the stairs. Chris ran a webpage development business out of his parents’ basement.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Chris gave a gruff little laugh, "I was going to stop by your place in about ten minutes."

"Really?" I moved towards an old faded red sofa intent on relaxing while Chris went about his business.

"Yeah, I slept in till like two o'clock today, so I figured I'd maybe go visit Frank or something." He looked at me. "You a game little monkey?"

"Sure. I’m up for that. I was looking for something to do. I had my own Brian Wilson episode today, too." I flipped through one of the many magazines that Chris had strewn about his floor. Waiting, I helped myself to some peanuts from a small jar shaped like a jawbone and watched Chris' fingers dance over the computer keyboard. “Did I mention I might be buying a new truck this summer?” Chris said. I was surprised and congratulated him. “If I can land a few more of these business accounts, I should have enough money to buy my own truck.”

Soon we were picking up slurpees from a nearby seven-eleven, and afterwards I found myself sitting shotgun, inhaling the familiar scent of the interior of Chris’ truck. I tried to recall how many times this scene has repeated itself over the years. How many restless nights had we spent, through all seasons, in this little red pickup, heading for parts unknown? Happiness might be a warm gun, but freedom is a full tank of gas and a set of keys.

(click here to continue reading)

May's Music Update

Even though MGMT's recent album is clearly in the running for the Year's Worst Album Art, it's still receiving some significant play on my iPod. Last month saw me harping on the whimsical "Brian Eno" and the massive homage to 1960s pop, "Siberian Breaks." This month, it's the sparse sounds of "Someone's Missing" that continues to capture my attention.

Several potentially major releases came their way to me this month. Firstly, I finally grabbed a copy of Plastic Beach, the new Gorillaz album. Although I do enjoy it's surprising R&B vibe, I must admit that it's a bit shorter on hooks than Demon Days and a bit longer of multi-mediated concepts. I find the music far more enthralling when fooling around with the online extras.

Other notable releases come from some Canadian heavyweights, Broken Social Scene and New Pornographers. It's funny how much personal preference can play in our perspectives of things. I've listened to a lot more BSS over the last few months than their West Coast counterparts, and probably as such, I found Forgiveness Rock Record sounding a lot like a simple continuation of Broken Social Scene but with added effects' pedals. Together on the otherhand, strikes me as a more reinvigorated New Pornographers, energized in a way I haven't heard them for years, but, like I said, I haven't crossed paths with the New Pornographers as much in the last few years either.

Rounding out the Cancon, is Latin, Holy Fuck's follow-up to their critically acclaimed 2007 debut. It's an album that somehow manages to catch the block rocking spirit of mid-1990s Chemical Brothers, brilliantly constructed through a mixture of live instrumentation and children's toys.

Speaking of electronic music, Calgary's heRajiKa had two singles on the new Introducing! compilation Beats + Pieces.

This month also saw me become reacquainted with the ska band The Slackers. Their debut album, Better Late Than Never, was an instant classic, but The Great Rocksteady Swindle suffers from some uneven songwriting.

Finally, I just got hold of The National's High Violet and preliminary listens are encouraging...

The Old Sporting Ghosts Are Dead

The Montreal Canadiens are bowing out of the 2010 Stanley Cup Playoffs as I write this. My wife screams, "He touched it! He touched!" Mike Richards has picked up the Prince of Wales Trophy, the reward for winning the Eastern Conference Finals, and superstitious hockey fables holds that teams whose captains touch the Prince of Wales Trophy (or the Clarence Campbell Trophy in the West), inevitably lose the Stanley Cup (although Pittsburgh Penguin captains Mario Lemieux and Sidney Crosby both lifted the trophy in their turn). But Crosby's victory in the finals last year, Montreal's failure to hold good to their once-a-decade winning ways, reinforces an idea I heard back when the Red Sox won the World Series, namely that the old sporting ghosts are dead.

A new century demands new ghosts, I guess. Most of the storied sports teams have all moved into new stadiums, and as players, audiences, and franchises transition into the online age, the old "pre-modern" (that is, from the age of paternalistic owners and non-scientific training regimens) stories, fables, and traditions will be replaced from those of the former industrial age. What will these ghosts look like? I don't know. Detroit's octopus tradition certainly counts. I'd like to think that maybe Eric Lindros has cursed Bobby Clarke and the Flyers will never win a Stanley Cup as long as he remains with the organization.

Anyone else got other suggestions?

Ready for the World Cup

Perhaps one of the greatest World Cup of Soccer commercials of all time (I mean, who wouldn't dream of beating Roger Federer at Table Tennis?).

Random Thoughts While Shopping For Socks

Yesterday, my daughter and I were out shopping for a pair of socks - a surprisingly picky task for a seven year old.

I happened to spot these shoes, the likes of which I had not worn since university and was instantly filled with nostalgia. These Converse One Star's were worn by many grunge wannabes and I was no exception (n.b., Is there a grunge term equivalent to hippies? Grungies?). The whole process made wonder at what point nostalgia for items of fashion crosses over and transforms into a "personal style."

Nostalgia is something that I consider to be a simple yearning for the cultural practices and values signified by said item (i.e., a return to the height of Grunge, if you can believe it, or more likely a desire for my youth and the decreased responsibilities that came with it), whereas "style" is simply an aesthetic preference (also wrapped up in cultural affiliations).

I think one of the thing that distinguishes between the two is chronology. There needs to be a definite break with the past in order for them to be susceptible to nostalgia. For example, I stopped wearing Converse One Stars once I stopped working in the parking lot. Not necessarily by choice, since I think they stopped selling them (thus following the inevitable ebb and flow of fashion's supply and demand cycles). However, for professional purposes I've been wearing one form of Fluevog Michaels for almost fifteen years now (each pair has lasted about five years), and while I'm considering something different, my wife claims that the shoes represent an element of my personal style. When I see the One Stars, I think of those glorious parking lot years and the unbridled freedom I enjoyed while at work and school. When I see a pair of Michaels, I simply think: I have to work tomorrow. Perhaps after I change careers I'll think differently when I see a pair of Fluevogs.

A few moments later I saw a pair of Adidas Samba France World Cup limited edition runners and felt a yearning wholly distinct from nostalgia. It was more akin to desire, making me wonder at what point did fashion become a fetish. Since most fetish items have a sexual component to them, I didn't think these qualified.

But these certainly did.

Song of the Day: Laval Street (Dojo Workhorse)

June might be for weddings, but May is for lovers...

NHL Playoff Predictions

Alright, I know we're into the second round of the playoffs, with some teams already through to the third round, so I realize that it doesn't take much to make a playoff prediction at this stage, but here goes anyways:

If you understand anything about the magic of the Montreal Canadiens and the improbableness of their post-season success so far, you know it's because they're going to win the whole thing. The Canadiens have won a Stanley Cup at least once in every decade since the league began and this year is their final kick at the cat for the current decade. So the cup is theirs, that's all there is too it. Sorry Crosby, my family loves you and everything, but go ask Wayne Gretzky what it feels like to run into one of Montreal's teams of destiny.

April Bookends

April was one of those rare months where I received a book and managed to read it before the month was over. Unlike most books, Russell Smith's Girl Crazy wasn't sent to my office for "aging" but somehow found it's way directly into my hands and proved to be a fun and thought-provoking read.

April will mostly be noted for the arrival of several work-related books, like Teach Like A Champion. It's author, Doug Lemov, has a sense of optimism about his analysis of the teaching profession that Jack Frymier clearly doesn't have, as his book Changing the School Learning Environment, is subtitled "Where do we stand after decades of reform?" (short answer, not that much further than when we started). I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am by the title of Driven by Data: A Practical Guide to Improving Instruction. It's like winning the buzzword bingo.

Books Read

Mickey Leigh (with Legs McNeil), I Slept With Joey Ramone: A Family Memoir (2009)

Russell Smith, Girl Crazy (2010)

Currently Reading

Ben Moor, More Trees to Climb (2010)

Noam Chomsky and Michel Foucault, The Chomsky-Foucault Debate on Human Nature (2006)

Doug Lemov, Teach Like A Champion (2010)

Books Acquired

Paul Bambrick-Santoyo, Driven by Data: A Practical Guide to Improve Instruction (2010)

Doug Lemov, Teach Like A Champion (2010)

Jack Frymier, Changing the School Learning Environment (2004)

Russell Smith, Girl Crazy (2010)

Guy Debord's Words of Advice for Young Writers

"I have written less than most writers. But I have drunk far more than most drinkers."

If ever there was a quote that summed up my time at The Daily Wenzel, it's this little gem from French writer Guy Debord, whose work influenced the May 1968 student uprisings in Paris, Abbie Hoffmann's Festival of Life at the Chicago Democratic Convention of 1968, James Reid (the graphic designer for Macolm McLaren and the Sex Pistols), and thanks to Greil Marcus' book Lipstick Traces, batches of counterculture kids throughout the 1990s. We were big fans, and you can find links to Debord's main book The Society of the Spectacle here. Debord was notorius for hanging out at the cafes and bars of Paris, dreaming of the artistic revolution to come and not really being all that productive. If I'm being honest, the fine folks of The Daily Wenzel were always a good time, if not an always efficient and productive one.

"All my life I have seen only troubled times, extreme divisions in society, and immense destruction; I have joined in these troubles."

Below is the opening from another Debord film, known poetically in English as We Turn in the Night and are Consumed by the Fire.

For the love of comic books, pop art, and birthdays

I love comic books. Always have, probably always will. I love comic books, manga, graphic novels, adaptations of classic books turned into graphic novels. Even cartoons. I love'em. Love'em all. Fundamentally, it's because I love a good story and while bad comic books can be very bad, good comic books have the chance at being excellent. Elsewhere, I've talked about the unbridled creativity of twentieth century and the shift of cultural reference points away from Classical Biblical, Greek, and Roman stories, to those of DC, Disney, Marvel, and Warner Brothers (even if these references have some of the latter embedded within them).

Sadly though, it's been awhile since I've read a comic book, simply because I do not have enough time to read everything I'd like. I'm in the middle of a moratorium on book buying due to the abundance of unread books in my house, and that includes comic books. One day perhaps, my love and I will be reunited...

I understand and pay attention to a lot of the various critiques of comic books, such as the feminist and anti-imperialist ones, though I'm willing to pass off most of these arguments as being related to the Comics Code Authority's warping influence on the kinds of stories comic books could tell and how they told them. I'd like to think that comic books, as a larger cultural group, have been a little more eager to deal with these stories since the 1990s and the collapse of the CCA. Marxist interpretations of comic books that strike at the industrial side of the business have a little more resonance however, since I view much of the recent "retconning" of character storylines as a cynical and un-creative attempt to generate more sales. The comic book industry has collapsed several times before, and will likely do so again.

Anyways, last Saturday, the first Saturday of May, was apparently Free Comic Book Day (again a sign that the comic book industry is in trouble) and CTOverdrive brought this series of pop art-inspired comic book posters to my attention. I think they're great, especially this Thor one, with it's big swath of yellow in the middle.

I have a birthday coming up, and it'd be awesome to hang this poster in my writing space...hint, hint. I won't hold my breath though, since Christmas came and went without my Ilie Nastase t-shirt appearing...

What If Everything You Knew About Your Favourite Movies Was Wrong

I was reading Russell Smith's Girl Crazy this week and thinking about Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho, when I happened across this on YouTube. Made me chuckle.

So did this.