Today's soundtrack:
Live it out by Metric
I admit it. I'm procrastinating. But I'm also a little miffed. No, miffed isn't strong enough. Pissed? Hm, that has beer-drinking implications (although those implications aren't entirely unfounded). Livid. That's it. I'm livid.
The next logical question is, of course, "why"? Well, click here, here and here. Let's take these one by one, shall we?
The cutting of aid to Darfur is nothing short of disgusting. If I'm not mistaken, the daily caloric intake is now around the same level as the Jews during the Holocaust. 1050 per day. And that's only for those people getting aid in the camps. I have nothing else to say about this. I'm too disgusted with the apathy around this.
As for the Spanish version of the American national anthem, I'm amazed at the anger towards its publication. Okay, I get that we're used to this up here in the Great White North, but is it true that a Spanish version isn't as "true" as the original in English? I can't find the quote I heard on the CBC earlier today, but the jist of it was that for Bush (or the Shrub, as my nana calls him) the Spanish version isn't as good as the original and doesn't convey the same thing. No, I don't think he was talking about the translation itself, but the mere fact that it was no longer in English. Apparently, it has to be in English. Okay, let's follow this logic, shall we? Bush is a Christian, no? Well, okay, some would argue no, but for the sake of the argument, let's take the man at his word that he's a Christian. Now, to my knowledge, none of the Bible was written in English. Aramaic, Greek, Hebrew, but no English. One could argue, very successfully, that the Bible doesn't translate perfectly into English, that perhaps something is lost a bit in translation (I refer you to the horns v. halos translation problem of the Old Testament, which led to Michelangelo carving horns onto the head of Moses, making him somewhat demonic), but does that mean that the Bible doesn't convey a certain message, a certain feeling, in English? If Bush wants to make the argument that the anthem should only be sung in English because it was written in English, well then I suggest he brush up on his Aramaic, Greek and Hebrew. As for the fact that the USA is an English-speaking country, I shake my head. Yes, the pilgrims landed and were greeted with a "hey there, partner!" by the local tribe. Bah!
Oh Small Dead Animals. Dear lord, where to begin?! D's been combing through site (relieving her procrastinationitis, I suspect) lately, so I thought I'd take a look. But damn. Not only have these people (the majority of the commentators on the site) breed, thus spreading their ignorance to the next generation, but they vote. Mars is looking good. Communist, you know.
Happy thought of the day comes from Juan from Starbucks. I went in to grab a Frap (yes, I am a corporate whore) and the cashier asked me what I was listening to on my iPod (yes, I know!). After finding out I was listening to Maná, and liked Juanes and Shakira, he told me about some Argentine band called Soda Estereo (now defunct). Planning on checking them out soon. Anyway, Juan from Starbucks is originally from Colombia, hence the knowledge of good Spanish rock bands. Add this random encounter to the beautiful sunny day (plus the first beer of the year on the roof of the Yard) I had today, and despite all the horrors in the world, I still found myself bopping and dancing on my way home tonight.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
and off the deep end we go
Today’s soundtrack:
“A Dios le pido” de Juanes
“Te dejo Madrid” de Shakira
“No hay igual” de Nelly Furtado
“Eres mi religión” de Maná y Zucchero
After years of practicing in front of the bathroom mirror, I am finally ready to deliver my Academy Award acceptance speech.
The applause is deafening. She rushes up the stage to accept her statue. She is wearing a beautiful gown that the head of Joan Collins said was “a tasteful homage to the most delicate and polite Edwardian age”. Adrian Brody hands her the statue, kisses her á la Halle Berry, and leaves her in front of the microphone. The clock is already counting down from one minute.
“Wow. Wow. I’m speechless. This is such a surprise. I never thought that my little screenplay would be able to make it this far. I didn’t even write a speech. This has been something that I’ve been working on for years. Okay okay the clock is already counting down. So of course I have to thank the producers – Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks –, the director – the incredible Rob Morrow –, all the cast and crew: Gwyneth, Viggo, Angelina, and my dear Dame Judi Dench. It was an incredible experience to work with you all. I want to thank my parents and my family, but moreover I want to thank my Grade 4 teacher Mrs. Parker. Ooh no, I only have 30 more seconds. I need to thank my friends back home. Oh! To the other nominees, let me just say it is just such an honour to be in the company of you, Ms. Streisand, and of you, Mr. Allen. Don’t put your baton up yet, Mr. Conductor Man. I mean it. Put it down. Now.”
She glares intently at the conductor as the music begins to swell, his baton waving wildly in the air.
“Oh you asked for it, you cocky little bastard!”
She jumps off of the stage and into the orchestra pit, waving her Academy Award above her head and screaming like a banshee. Adrian Brody is heard to gasp offstage. The camera pans to Julia Roberts. “I did that first,” she yells to her husband of 6 hours, Nicolas Cage (it’s the 7th marriage for both). “I yelled at the conductor man first! She’s stealing my thing! My gimmicky anger actress thing!” She then smiles her big toothy grin for the folks at home. Cage is seen to be signing annulment papers.
It’s strange, but every time I’ve rehearsed this in the mirror, it’s always ended with me swan-diving off of the stage towards the conductor.
“A Dios le pido” de Juanes
“Te dejo Madrid” de Shakira
“No hay igual” de Nelly Furtado
“Eres mi religión” de Maná y Zucchero
After years of practicing in front of the bathroom mirror, I am finally ready to deliver my Academy Award acceptance speech.
The applause is deafening. She rushes up the stage to accept her statue. She is wearing a beautiful gown that the head of Joan Collins said was “a tasteful homage to the most delicate and polite Edwardian age”. Adrian Brody hands her the statue, kisses her á la Halle Berry, and leaves her in front of the microphone. The clock is already counting down from one minute.
“Wow. Wow. I’m speechless. This is such a surprise. I never thought that my little screenplay would be able to make it this far. I didn’t even write a speech. This has been something that I’ve been working on for years. Okay okay the clock is already counting down. So of course I have to thank the producers – Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks –, the director – the incredible Rob Morrow –, all the cast and crew: Gwyneth, Viggo, Angelina, and my dear Dame Judi Dench. It was an incredible experience to work with you all. I want to thank my parents and my family, but moreover I want to thank my Grade 4 teacher Mrs. Parker. Ooh no, I only have 30 more seconds. I need to thank my friends back home. Oh! To the other nominees, let me just say it is just such an honour to be in the company of you, Ms. Streisand, and of you, Mr. Allen. Don’t put your baton up yet, Mr. Conductor Man. I mean it. Put it down. Now.”
She glares intently at the conductor as the music begins to swell, his baton waving wildly in the air.
“Oh you asked for it, you cocky little bastard!”
She jumps off of the stage and into the orchestra pit, waving her Academy Award above her head and screaming like a banshee. Adrian Brody is heard to gasp offstage. The camera pans to Julia Roberts. “I did that first,” she yells to her husband of 6 hours, Nicolas Cage (it’s the 7th marriage for both). “I yelled at the conductor man first! She’s stealing my thing! My gimmicky anger actress thing!” She then smiles her big toothy grin for the folks at home. Cage is seen to be signing annulment papers.
It’s strange, but every time I’ve rehearsed this in the mirror, it’s always ended with me swan-diving off of the stage towards the conductor.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
northern exposure
Today's soundtrack:
Live it out by Metric
Let it die by Feist
When I first met Miguelito, he told me about this show Doctor en Alaska that he used to watch in Spain. Took me a while to figure out that he was talking about Northern Exposure. In fact, both D and Miguelito spent their respective early adult years following the exploits of one Dr. Joel Fleischman. Personally, I find it curious that my two internationally globe-trotting friends were obsessed with Northern Exposure.
As for me, I remembered nothing beyond the moose in the opening credits. But I have a good excuse for this. You see, I didn't need to watch Northern Exposure because I had already lived it. The towns I grew up in were just like Cicely, minus the Americans (on a good day) and the snow (add more rain). I knew nothing of crime (literally - every door was unlocked, 24 hours a day). Mom was once paid for piano lessons with fish. The guy who laid the foundations for our house was a German POW from WWII. My elementary school had an octopus for a pet (for a few weeks until it looked really mad). Bears showed up in town and relaxed on people's sundecks and patios. Cougars picked off unsuspecting pets. Moving to a city (the 'Mo being a thriving metropolis of 77,000) was a shock. Not that life in a small town is ideal - not by a long shot - but the paranoia of living in a big city (and an even bigger city now) hasn't quite gone away yet.
As a sidenote, Mom tells me that she used to watch Northern Exposure when we lived up in 'McNeil. I suspect it might be a "misery loves company" type of situation.
So Miguelito and I have been watching the first three seasons. Really quite a good show. Reminds me a lot of 'McNeil and the Sunshine Coast. We have 2 or 3 more seasons to go before we get to the end of the series, but I think I might need a significant break from the show right now. You see, I had a dream last night. A dream, sabes? About Fleischman. I think I was Maggie. I don't know, maybe it's the whole New York accent thing. Maybe it's the doctor thing. It's likely that it's the Jewish thing. Suffice it to say that I think I've just about ODed on Northern Exposure.
Good luck with Season 3, D.
Live it out by Metric
Let it die by Feist
When I first met Miguelito, he told me about this show Doctor en Alaska that he used to watch in Spain. Took me a while to figure out that he was talking about Northern Exposure. In fact, both D and Miguelito spent their respective early adult years following the exploits of one Dr. Joel Fleischman. Personally, I find it curious that my two internationally globe-trotting friends were obsessed with Northern Exposure.
As for me, I remembered nothing beyond the moose in the opening credits. But I have a good excuse for this. You see, I didn't need to watch Northern Exposure because I had already lived it. The towns I grew up in were just like Cicely, minus the Americans (on a good day) and the snow (add more rain). I knew nothing of crime (literally - every door was unlocked, 24 hours a day). Mom was once paid for piano lessons with fish. The guy who laid the foundations for our house was a German POW from WWII. My elementary school had an octopus for a pet (for a few weeks until it looked really mad). Bears showed up in town and relaxed on people's sundecks and patios. Cougars picked off unsuspecting pets. Moving to a city (the 'Mo being a thriving metropolis of 77,000) was a shock. Not that life in a small town is ideal - not by a long shot - but the paranoia of living in a big city (and an even bigger city now) hasn't quite gone away yet.
As a sidenote, Mom tells me that she used to watch Northern Exposure when we lived up in 'McNeil. I suspect it might be a "misery loves company" type of situation.
So Miguelito and I have been watching the first three seasons. Really quite a good show. Reminds me a lot of 'McNeil and the Sunshine Coast. We have 2 or 3 more seasons to go before we get to the end of the series, but I think I might need a significant break from the show right now. You see, I had a dream last night. A dream, sabes? About Fleischman. I think I was Maggie. I don't know, maybe it's the whole New York accent thing. Maybe it's the doctor thing. It's likely that it's the Jewish thing. Suffice it to say that I think I've just about ODed on Northern Exposure.
Good luck with Season 3, D.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
down the literary rabbit-hole
Today's Soundtrack:
"When the Night Feels my Song" by Bedouin Soundclash
I'm having a Mrs Dalloway kind of day. That is to say, that "Mrs Dalloway said she would by the flowers herself" and indeed she did. In honour of the spring, which has finally seen fit to grace us with her presence, I picked up some lilies, daisies, and tulips from Safeway. Clearly not how Mrs Dalloway would do it, but things didn't end well for her, did they? I ask because the book is sitting, unfinished, on my shelf for the past year and a half. I believe that when I left her, she was walking down a street in London. In truth, I only picked the book up after watching The Hours one night on the Island. It's not as though I dislike Virginia Woolf, but I'm not much of a modernist. Besides, I had to read Three Guineas in Liberal Studies and I'm still recovering from the tirade. By the way, this picture is not of dear Ms. Virginia Woolf, but of my great-grandmother, who, I've heard, could dish out a good tirade in her day, too.
Lo siento, pero por que Miguelito está en Japón (qué suerte él tiene), no hay más español hoy.
"When the Night Feels my Song" by Bedouin Soundclash
I'm having a Mrs Dalloway kind of day. That is to say, that "Mrs Dalloway said she would by the flowers herself" and indeed she did. In honour of the spring, which has finally seen fit to grace us with her presence, I picked up some lilies, daisies, and tulips from Safeway. Clearly not how Mrs Dalloway would do it, but things didn't end well for her, did they? I ask because the book is sitting, unfinished, on my shelf for the past year and a half. I believe that when I left her, she was walking down a street in London. In truth, I only picked the book up after watching The Hours one night on the Island. It's not as though I dislike Virginia Woolf, but I'm not much of a modernist. Besides, I had to read Three Guineas in Liberal Studies and I'm still recovering from the tirade. By the way, this picture is not of dear Ms. Virginia Woolf, but of my great-grandmother, who, I've heard, could dish out a good tirade in her day, too.Lo siento, pero por que Miguelito está en Japón (qué suerte él tiene), no hay más español hoy.
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