I should probably be reading about AIDS for my class. But I've got this Sherlock Holmes anthology sitting to my left that's awful tempting...
Maybe I'll just write something instead.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Friday, December 11, 2009
I like this one.
Reminds me of home. I actually wrote it 'cause I was a little homesick. And because I had to write for class. It's called "Cloudy" and it's really super and I hope you like it!
Cloudy
"Jake, where the hell are we? This isn't the way we came."
"Quit griping. We're almost there. I still can't believe you haven't even tried to enjoy this."
Alex wasn't convinced. All he wanted was to get back to the truck. He couldn't understand how anyone could love a place like this. They had been hiking all afternoon, just the two of them, with only sagebrush and rocks for company. Everything looked grey. There wasn't even anything alive to be seen, save a couple birds that they occasionally startled. No rabbits, no coyotes, not even any of the cows whose dry, whitened droppings Alex had trouble avoiding. The closest thing they found to a mammal was a skeleton or two, bleached by the oppressive summer sun. Only now, it was early October and starting to get cold. As far as Alex could tell, this was a dead expanse, a wasteland, not worth the trouble of driving to.
Jake had told him he'd love it, that it suited his morbid personality. Alex was hesitant, but he had eventually agreed to go on the hike because it was a sunny day, like a relapse of summer. He had to admit it was nice at first; the exercise and the sun on his face were refreshing. During the hike, though, some clouds moved in and the sun became patchy, along with the warmth it provided. It was then that Alex realized that there was absolutely nothing to see. He became chilled, and the sun was well on its way to setting by the time the two headed back to the truck after sitting on a cold volcanic rock, having a dinner of sunflower seeds. Jake had insisted that they take a different route back, that there was more to see, that he had been there before.
But Alex didn't see more. He only saw the same scraggly hills, the same streaks of St. Helens ash, the same dried-up bones, the same boot tracks in the brittle ground. It kept getting colder, too.
"There's the truck," said Jake, stepping over a pile of rusted metal. "I hope you're happy." Alex just grunted while Jake fumbled for the keys. The old grey and red truck was parked in a gravel circle. All around, the ground was littered with aluminum cans, shotgun shells, broken appliances, old tires, big concrete blocks, and a stop sign full of bullet holes. Jake climbed into the truck and Alex had a cigarette while they waited for it to warm up.
Jake had owned that truck for as long as Alex could remember. It was an old 1979 Datsun pickup, and ugly as death. It always took forever to heat up. Alex pulled up the seat cover made of rough woven cloth and sat down. There were holes burned in the cover and every time somebody sat on it, they ripped a little wider.
"When you gonna get a new one of these?" asked Alex, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette on the cloth, opening a new hole.
"Ah, whenever I have the spending money."
The truck had a manual transmission, which Jake always liked, even though reverse never worked too well. He said that he always wished they kept making stickshift trucks. Alex asked if they could turn on the heat. Jake flicked it on while Alex turned the radio knob, trying to find a good AM station.
They drove out the way they came in, on the dirt and gravel road by the irrigation canal, riddled by washboard stretches, past broken wooden fences that still managed to keep the cattle in, dodging the deep puddles that were fed by the sprinklers in the yard full of pigs and goats, turning left at the trailer house with a front yard full of relics from long-past demo derbys, straight past the slaughterhouse, and left again toward Stratford Road.
Just before they got to the main road, and just as they were starting to warm up, a little Geo hatchback flew out of the dirt driveway to their left. Alex only had time to shout, "Holy sh-" before he was drowned out by crumpling metal as the car hit thier truck, just behind the rear tire. The back end lost grip and Jake slammed on the brakes as they swerved toward the ditch on their right. They came to a crooked stop and both young men jumped out to see the damage. As it turned out, the truck did more to the little car than vice-versa. In the steaming, partly crumpled car was a scrawny teenaged kid with long hair and patchy clothes. Jake and Alex helped him out and tried to calm him down; he was shaking and kept repeating, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Nobody ever drives on this road. I didn't see you." Alex offered him a smoke.
The three of them sat on the now-crooked tailgate for a while, smoking Alex's cigarettes, eating seeds, and trying to figure out what to do. A few curious cows came by to see what had happened. The sun was going down, shooting its last red rays over the Stuart Range.
"That's pretty," muttered Jake.
A few seconds later, Alex replied, "Yeah, it actually is..."
The skinny kid had finally settled down, so he walked back to his house and brought his dad. There hadn't been much damage done to Jake's truck, so he agreed not to bother about the matter anymore in exchange for ten bucks and three pounds of hamburger. Nobody had gotten hurt and the kid and his dad had more cars anyway. Jake shook the father's hand and then drove off with Alex, but not before they spent a few more minutes, watching the sunset.
"Quit griping. We're almost there. I still can't believe you haven't even tried to enjoy this."
Alex wasn't convinced. All he wanted was to get back to the truck. He couldn't understand how anyone could love a place like this. They had been hiking all afternoon, just the two of them, with only sagebrush and rocks for company. Everything looked grey. There wasn't even anything alive to be seen, save a couple birds that they occasionally startled. No rabbits, no coyotes, not even any of the cows whose dry, whitened droppings Alex had trouble avoiding. The closest thing they found to a mammal was a skeleton or two, bleached by the oppressive summer sun. Only now, it was early October and starting to get cold. As far as Alex could tell, this was a dead expanse, a wasteland, not worth the trouble of driving to.
Jake had told him he'd love it, that it suited his morbid personality. Alex was hesitant, but he had eventually agreed to go on the hike because it was a sunny day, like a relapse of summer. He had to admit it was nice at first; the exercise and the sun on his face were refreshing. During the hike, though, some clouds moved in and the sun became patchy, along with the warmth it provided. It was then that Alex realized that there was absolutely nothing to see. He became chilled, and the sun was well on its way to setting by the time the two headed back to the truck after sitting on a cold volcanic rock, having a dinner of sunflower seeds. Jake had insisted that they take a different route back, that there was more to see, that he had been there before.
But Alex didn't see more. He only saw the same scraggly hills, the same streaks of St. Helens ash, the same dried-up bones, the same boot tracks in the brittle ground. It kept getting colder, too.
"There's the truck," said Jake, stepping over a pile of rusted metal. "I hope you're happy." Alex just grunted while Jake fumbled for the keys. The old grey and red truck was parked in a gravel circle. All around, the ground was littered with aluminum cans, shotgun shells, broken appliances, old tires, big concrete blocks, and a stop sign full of bullet holes. Jake climbed into the truck and Alex had a cigarette while they waited for it to warm up.
Jake had owned that truck for as long as Alex could remember. It was an old 1979 Datsun pickup, and ugly as death. It always took forever to heat up. Alex pulled up the seat cover made of rough woven cloth and sat down. There were holes burned in the cover and every time somebody sat on it, they ripped a little wider.
"When you gonna get a new one of these?" asked Alex, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette on the cloth, opening a new hole.
"Ah, whenever I have the spending money."
The truck had a manual transmission, which Jake always liked, even though reverse never worked too well. He said that he always wished they kept making stickshift trucks. Alex asked if they could turn on the heat. Jake flicked it on while Alex turned the radio knob, trying to find a good AM station.
They drove out the way they came in, on the dirt and gravel road by the irrigation canal, riddled by washboard stretches, past broken wooden fences that still managed to keep the cattle in, dodging the deep puddles that were fed by the sprinklers in the yard full of pigs and goats, turning left at the trailer house with a front yard full of relics from long-past demo derbys, straight past the slaughterhouse, and left again toward Stratford Road.
Just before they got to the main road, and just as they were starting to warm up, a little Geo hatchback flew out of the dirt driveway to their left. Alex only had time to shout, "Holy sh-" before he was drowned out by crumpling metal as the car hit thier truck, just behind the rear tire. The back end lost grip and Jake slammed on the brakes as they swerved toward the ditch on their right. They came to a crooked stop and both young men jumped out to see the damage. As it turned out, the truck did more to the little car than vice-versa. In the steaming, partly crumpled car was a scrawny teenaged kid with long hair and patchy clothes. Jake and Alex helped him out and tried to calm him down; he was shaking and kept repeating, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Nobody ever drives on this road. I didn't see you." Alex offered him a smoke.
The three of them sat on the now-crooked tailgate for a while, smoking Alex's cigarettes, eating seeds, and trying to figure out what to do. A few curious cows came by to see what had happened. The sun was going down, shooting its last red rays over the Stuart Range.
"That's pretty," muttered Jake.
A few seconds later, Alex replied, "Yeah, it actually is..."
The skinny kid had finally settled down, so he walked back to his house and brought his dad. There hadn't been much damage done to Jake's truck, so he agreed not to bother about the matter anymore in exchange for ten bucks and three pounds of hamburger. Nobody had gotten hurt and the kid and his dad had more cars anyway. Jake shook the father's hand and then drove off with Alex, but not before they spent a few more minutes, watching the sunset.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Favourite Bands
Half of the reason for this post is to put a "u" in the word "favorite" for once. My English teachers tend not to like it, even though it's a legitimate spelling. But I thought I'd make a list of my favourite dozen bands. It's a tough one, but I think I can do it!
I'm gonna start with the honorable mention. Those bands that I love, but don't make it into the elite company of those about to be mentioned are: Newsboys, House of Heroes, Interpol, mewithoutYou, My Morning Jacket, Mogwai, Norma Jean, Haste the Day, Bloc Party, Iron & Wine, and Spoon. Yeah, that's a lot and there's definitely more that I was tempted to say, but if you want to see all of those, you can look at my Facebook page or something. ^_^
Anyway, here's the countdown...
12. Harvey Danger: I have to thank Robert Mason for introducing me to these guys. They're terrific! It's pop, but it's full of bile and attitude. I like it a lot.
11: The Blood Brothers: Sorry mom, but I love these fellas. They're vile, rebellious, nasty, profane, and angry, but I simply can't resist the bizarre imagery, bipolar vocals, manic guitar work, brilliant drumming, and underlying catchiness. Definitely a guilty pleasure.
10. Andrew Bird: He's kind of tied with the next guys. It's completely different, though, and I haven't know about him as long, so I put him one down. Anyhow, Andrew Bird is an incredible musician, witty lyricist, and amazing live performer. He gets big points for simply being awesome.
9. Showbread: I'm tempted to rank these guys higher: Their lyrics are gorgeous, their music intense, creative, and ever-changing. Easily the cream of the crop when it comes to any kind of hardcore music. Raw rock kills!
8. Sanctus Real: An old favourite, these guys constantly hit home with great lyrics, great melodies, and great sound. It's Christian music that can be blasted without shame, which, unless you drift into the world of hardcore and metal, is quite rare.
7. Animal Collective: Another band that I'd consider moving up the list; incredibly creative, they never cease to astound me by their expert manipulation of abstract sounds to make something more accessible and catchy. They're super! Only drugs could have produced stuff like this, though; just listen to their early stuff and it's easy to understand.
6. Brand New: These guys are terrific. They consistently change between albums, and the results are always terrific. They come from an interesting, quasi-Christian viewpoint, which allows them to explore some amazingly deep issues. The music is so good, too!
5. Explosions in the Sky: These guys are the classical composers for the rock era. The intertwining guitar work is constantly gorgeous and emotional, leaving words and singing completely unnecessary. As far as post-rock goes (depending on your definition of such), it doesn't get much better than this.
4. Radiohead: I really don't think I can say anything about these guys that hasn't already been said. They cover such a wide range of styles, constantly making music that no one else could pull off. Thom Yorke's voice is incomparable. Their music never gets old.
3. Modest Mouse: Even though Radiohead is incredibly creative, I put MM ahead of them because they are completely, utterly, and indescribably unique. Radiohead draws from Talking Heads and a bit of arena rock (though not so much on their later work), but Modest Mouse is incomparable. It's such a wonderful, distinctive style of music, tied together by talented musicians and Isaac Brock's ridiculously versatile voice. Their lyrics, although often explicit, are very relatable and powerful. They make for great listening on the road or at work. Also, for the record, old Modest Mouse is WAY better than new Modest Mouse.
2. Sigur Rós: The most beautiful music I've ever heard. It makes me cry from time to time. I want to learn a Scandinavian language just because of these guys. I really don't know what to say; their music is powerful, moving, emotional, life-changing, etc. If you don't like Sigur Rós, you don't have a soul.
1. Franz Ferdinand: Still my favourite band, these guys have simply brought it over their first three albums. I hope they keep pumping out more. I have to admit, I'm kind of a blind follower; I've bought EPs and singles from them. Of course, that's where some of their best music is to be found, so I don't feel bad. I simply love the angularity of the guitars, the intricate, yet catchy basslines, stomping drums, and ridiculously catchy choruses these guys produce. They've changed sounds a little bit between each album, but that keeps it fresh and exciting. Considering the quality that they consistently churn out, I can't complain. Also, I like the way they dress.
I'm gonna start with the honorable mention. Those bands that I love, but don't make it into the elite company of those about to be mentioned are: Newsboys, House of Heroes, Interpol, mewithoutYou, My Morning Jacket, Mogwai, Norma Jean, Haste the Day, Bloc Party, Iron & Wine, and Spoon. Yeah, that's a lot and there's definitely more that I was tempted to say, but if you want to see all of those, you can look at my Facebook page or something. ^_^
Anyway, here's the countdown...
12. Harvey Danger: I have to thank Robert Mason for introducing me to these guys. They're terrific! It's pop, but it's full of bile and attitude. I like it a lot.
11: The Blood Brothers: Sorry mom, but I love these fellas. They're vile, rebellious, nasty, profane, and angry, but I simply can't resist the bizarre imagery, bipolar vocals, manic guitar work, brilliant drumming, and underlying catchiness. Definitely a guilty pleasure.
10. Andrew Bird: He's kind of tied with the next guys. It's completely different, though, and I haven't know about him as long, so I put him one down. Anyhow, Andrew Bird is an incredible musician, witty lyricist, and amazing live performer. He gets big points for simply being awesome.
9. Showbread: I'm tempted to rank these guys higher: Their lyrics are gorgeous, their music intense, creative, and ever-changing. Easily the cream of the crop when it comes to any kind of hardcore music. Raw rock kills!
8. Sanctus Real: An old favourite, these guys constantly hit home with great lyrics, great melodies, and great sound. It's Christian music that can be blasted without shame, which, unless you drift into the world of hardcore and metal, is quite rare.
7. Animal Collective: Another band that I'd consider moving up the list; incredibly creative, they never cease to astound me by their expert manipulation of abstract sounds to make something more accessible and catchy. They're super! Only drugs could have produced stuff like this, though; just listen to their early stuff and it's easy to understand.
6. Brand New: These guys are terrific. They consistently change between albums, and the results are always terrific. They come from an interesting, quasi-Christian viewpoint, which allows them to explore some amazingly deep issues. The music is so good, too!
5. Explosions in the Sky: These guys are the classical composers for the rock era. The intertwining guitar work is constantly gorgeous and emotional, leaving words and singing completely unnecessary. As far as post-rock goes (depending on your definition of such), it doesn't get much better than this.
4. Radiohead: I really don't think I can say anything about these guys that hasn't already been said. They cover such a wide range of styles, constantly making music that no one else could pull off. Thom Yorke's voice is incomparable. Their music never gets old.
3. Modest Mouse: Even though Radiohead is incredibly creative, I put MM ahead of them because they are completely, utterly, and indescribably unique. Radiohead draws from Talking Heads and a bit of arena rock (though not so much on their later work), but Modest Mouse is incomparable. It's such a wonderful, distinctive style of music, tied together by talented musicians and Isaac Brock's ridiculously versatile voice. Their lyrics, although often explicit, are very relatable and powerful. They make for great listening on the road or at work. Also, for the record, old Modest Mouse is WAY better than new Modest Mouse.
2. Sigur Rós: The most beautiful music I've ever heard. It makes me cry from time to time. I want to learn a Scandinavian language just because of these guys. I really don't know what to say; their music is powerful, moving, emotional, life-changing, etc. If you don't like Sigur Rós, you don't have a soul.
1. Franz Ferdinand: Still my favourite band, these guys have simply brought it over their first three albums. I hope they keep pumping out more. I have to admit, I'm kind of a blind follower; I've bought EPs and singles from them. Of course, that's where some of their best music is to be found, so I don't feel bad. I simply love the angularity of the guitars, the intricate, yet catchy basslines, stomping drums, and ridiculously catchy choruses these guys produce. They've changed sounds a little bit between each album, but that keeps it fresh and exciting. Considering the quality that they consistently churn out, I can't complain. Also, I like the way they dress.
You know...
Someday, we're going to look back on Obama's election campaign and see it as one of the greatest acting feats in the history of the world.
Ugh. I don't want more taxes! Let me keep my expensive healthcare!
Ugh. I don't want more taxes! Let me keep my expensive healthcare!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I'm way too busy.
Okay, here's a sample of my life.
Social: Got up to have breakfast with a bunch of friends who are visiting from their respective post-graduate lives, and I'm just about to go to hang out again to watch baseball.
Personal: Did some shopping, did some laundry, got some coffee, and got some other stuff organized.
Work-wise: Went downtown to do some research/lisaison for a big semester-long project I have to do for writing II, started working on a paper revision, brainstormed for another project, and at some point, I'm going to vacuum my room.
All but two of these little points have I finished since I woke up today. Did I mention that it's Saturday, and I've only been awake for six hours? And, I have a lot more to do. Yeah, pretty leisurely...
Social: Got up to have breakfast with a bunch of friends who are visiting from their respective post-graduate lives, and I'm just about to go to hang out again to watch baseball.
Personal: Did some shopping, did some laundry, got some coffee, and got some other stuff organized.
Work-wise: Went downtown to do some research/lisaison for a big semester-long project I have to do for writing II, started working on a paper revision, brainstormed for another project, and at some point, I'm going to vacuum my room.
All but two of these little points have I finished since I woke up today. Did I mention that it's Saturday, and I've only been awake for six hours? And, I have a lot more to do. Yeah, pretty leisurely...
Friday, October 9, 2009
I Think I'm Crazy
Here's another poem. It's a fairly rough, early draft, as I wrote it last night in about 45 minutes, but whatever.
*ahem*
...
I Think I'm Crazy
Whoever's curious, come with me;
we'll eavesdrop on my dreams.
They're already getting fuzzy
and I'll need the help remembering.
We can share an orange apple
and clear Coca-Cola with our Mexican friends
on the beach where the mullet-sporting penguins
sit and stare.
We'll give our regards
to the soft-spoken canine who led us
out of the burning house
to the empty park downtown.
Riding back, my feet
leave the pedals
and insects deign to chat as I'm
flying, flying, flying,
falling, falling, falling...
And look! I've finished
a song, as I of course can sing
and play guitar
and drums
and violin
and horns
and organ.
I'll forget it, but at least
I know it's in there somewhere.
*ahem*
...
I Think I'm Crazy
Whoever's curious, come with me;
we'll eavesdrop on my dreams.
They're already getting fuzzy
and I'll need the help remembering.
We can share an orange apple
and clear Coca-Cola with our Mexican friends
on the beach where the mullet-sporting penguins
sit and stare.
We'll give our regards
to the soft-spoken canine who led us
out of the burning house
to the empty park downtown.
Riding back, my feet
leave the pedals
and insects deign to chat as I'm
flying, flying, flying,
falling, falling, falling...
And look! I've finished
a song, as I of course can sing
and play guitar
and drums
and violin
and horns
and organ.
I'll forget it, but at least
I know it's in there somewhere.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Let's write some poems...
Hum-dee-dum...
Here's the first two poems I've written for my creative writing class. These are probably happier than they should be. I could use some help with titles, though. :P
#1.
Back from a run, I stretch
on the lawn.
I don't want to cramp up.
Reaching for my toes, I greet
my sinews, "It's so easy
to see your make-up
when you're all stretched out,
muscle far from bone. I know
you are healthy; you
refuse to break" -
like us. The grass
tickles my legs and
I smile, remembering
our feet tread the same earth.
#2.
A sliver
of light on the floor
is keeping me awake.
Examine more closely to find it's
two or three
smaller beams crisscrossed, much
like the lines
on my cheek
in the morning.
There's an invisible
silver knife,
cascading primary colours-
a slice
of moon on my floor.
Here's the first two poems I've written for my creative writing class. These are probably happier than they should be. I could use some help with titles, though. :P
#1.
Back from a run, I stretch
on the lawn.
I don't want to cramp up.
Reaching for my toes, I greet
my sinews, "It's so easy
to see your make-up
when you're all stretched out,
muscle far from bone. I know
you are healthy; you
refuse to break" -
like us. The grass
tickles my legs and
I smile, remembering
our feet tread the same earth.
#2.
A sliver
of light on the floor
is keeping me awake.
Examine more closely to find it's
two or three
smaller beams crisscrossed, much
like the lines
on my cheek
in the morning.
There's an invisible
silver knife,
cascading primary colours-
a slice
of moon on my floor.
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