Chapter 11: You've made it this far haven't you?

Well, maybe you've been brainwashed too.

That was the title of an album... well, the album by the New Radicals, which were the pet project of a performer/producer/songwriter named Gregg Alexander. Their hit was "You Get What You Give," which was right in tune with the optimistic late-90's pop-rock scene. There might also be a future pome in that title.

Despite this introduction, I must admit, it's only the sentiment I'm interested in... I'm a bit past the New Radicals, who were among the various late-90's acts I was craving a few months ago (along with David Gray, Goo Goo Dolls, Chumbawumba, and Sugar Ray to name a few.) At the moment I've kinda got into a Steve Miller kick. I wouldn't buy an album of his, except maybe a Greatest Hits I suppose, but he had some great tunes, beyond The Joker. "Take the Money and Run" or "Jet Airliner" will often come on the radio at just the right time.

The weather - as tedius a topic as it is - has dominated my thoughts the last few days. It's hard to cold a candle, or so they say, in the cold November rain.

Both in English and Philosophy did the professors muse about the decreased attendance tdue to inclement weather. Inclement meaning, it was a rainy bitch on Wednesday. They both noted it was "The first rainy day," which I'm not sure the accuracy of, but you couldn't deny it was especially severe. As is increasingly typical, I paid not so much attention during those lectures. The key to those classes is the tutorials. Are the tutorials. Effing verb tenses.

Clearly, people were not interested in showing up for these early classes in the rain. however, by midday the rain had not levied, so there wasn't much anyone could do if they didn't want to come to the screening, since it's kinda essential (but don't try to tell Ronnie that, 'cause he's missed like three. I hope he's not reading this, but then, I hope there isn't anyone reading this most of the time.)

In film, we've been talkin' documentaries. The screening started with a 30-minute short called "Night and Fog," a French doc about the Holocaust. If there's one thing I like to see after my hastily-assembled and eaten sandwich, it's grainy footage of Nazi ovens at Auschwitz. Well, no, that's sarcasm you silly guy, it put me very ill-at-ease. There was some terribly graphic stuff there, attesting to the inhumanities of the Nazi regime. There were heads in a basket, charred remains and mass graves. Those of us who are terrified that civilization is teetering on the brink, comfort yourself that none of this is currently going on; not here, anyhow.

This was followed by the comparatively optimistic full-length feature doc Bus 174, about a 2000 bus hijacking in Brazil, focussing its attention on the disenfranchised downtrodden youths on the streets, driven to disparation. I walked, dazed, out into the gray, moist world. I was really turned around.

The hour between those two classes was spent trying to figure out how to get thirty-or-so copies of my latest piece for poetry. I was gonna print at Innis, but the computers there were all taken. So I headed, in the rain, down to the EJ Pratt library, widely praised for its cool glass interiors. It's a favourite place of mine, but printing there is 15 cents rather than 10 at Innis which is also the price of a photocopy. I already had one printed copy, so I just went to the basement at Old Vic and made copies there.

In class, after a brief workshopping, we had a speaker, Maureen S. Harris, who read a few of her works. I asked her a question of moderate thought about her feelings on prose compared to verse (as she read a piece that started out as verse but morphed into a prose poem.) That took us to the end of class. I walked with a friend in the rain up to St. George.

It was a kinda miserable day for bus riding. Everything was damp and gray and dark.

Today was a relaxed day, although flurries flew in the air and formed slush on the ground, which later became ice. It's the first snow of the season. After class, I actually walked home from the station, stopping off to talk to Amanda for a while, and get coffee, as per usual. I don't do this too often so that it doesn't look like I'm taking too much advantage, but at the same time... I like free stuff.

I've been bumming around the house all night, avoiding doing what I've set out for, apart from grocery shopping. I should've gotten more done, but these things happen.

This is all I know. My reality for tonight.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott