The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 46

Someone somewhere is thinking of you right this minute.

**

"Losing My Religion" (as recorded by R.E.M.)

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up

Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 97

Ideally, this song is playing while you're flying down the highway, headed for happiness...

**

"Magic Carpet Ride" (as recorded by Steppenwolf, 1968!)

I like to dream yes, yes, right between my sound machine
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night
Any place it goes is right
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away

Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around
A lousy candle's all I found

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away...

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 89

Always reminds me of the auto-percussion selection on my mother's electronic organ!

**

"Steppin' Out" (as recorded by Joe Jackson)

Now —
The mist across the window hides the lines
But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine
Electricity so fine
Look and dry your eyes

We —
So tired of all the darkness in our lives
With no more angry words to say
Can come alive
Get into a car and drive
To the other side

Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light

We —
Are young but getting old before our time
We'll leave the TV and the radio behind
Don't you wonder what we'll find
Steppin' out tonight

You —
Can dress in pink and blue just like a child
And in a yellow taxi turn to me and smile
We'll be there in just a while
If you follow me

Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe - steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light ...

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 31

Another great one-off — perfect for your morning commute!

**

"Ah! Leah!" (as recorded by Donnie Iris)

Leah, it's been a long long time
You're such a sight
You're looking better than a body has a right to
Don't you know we're playing with the fire?
But we can't stop this burning desire

Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?

I see your lips and I wonder who's been kissing them
I never knew how badly I was missing them
We both know we're never going to make it
but when we touch, we never have to fake it

Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
We ain't learned our lesson yet

Baby, it's no good
We're just asking for trouble
I can touch you but I don't know how to love you
It ain't no use, we're headed for disaster
Our minds say no but our hearts are talking faster

Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 17

Turn up your mental speakers and sing along!

**

"Turning Japanese" (as recorded by The Vapors)

I've got your picture of me and you
You wrote "I love you"
I wrote "Me too"
I sit there staring and there's nothing else to do
Oh it's in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when there's no one else around

I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
And turning in and turning 'round

Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...

I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of them all round my cell
I want the doctor to take a picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
and turning in and turning 'round

Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...

No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...

A Book to Avoid

I'm sure few of you would ever be moved to read Ann Brashares' new novel, The Last Summer (of You and Me) . But for those who might be tempted, let me say this: don't bother.

Brashares, in case you don't know, is the author of the outrageously successful Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series for young adults. The series is chock-full of annoying, low-grade YA clichés: genre-bound, simplistic, predictable exchanges that follow a high-key Hollywood arc. Nothing truly bad happens, the risks the protagonists face are minor and non-threatening, and the books invariably resolve happily, with renewed commitment to friendship forever (a commitment that strangely ebbs away by the beginning of the next book). Earlier this year Brashares brought all her Travelling Pants heroines to the cusp of adulthood, perhaps thinking her readership would then graduate to the new novel she's written for adults. And while readers might buy the book because they recognize the author's name, I can't imagine any but those who like badly written, formulaic storytelling enjoying it.

The Last Summer tells the story of Alice and Riley, sisters in their early twenties, and their best boy pal, Paul. After several years apart, the trio reunite at their summer homes on Fire Island. Preposterousness then ensues: a secret romance, a fast-moving tragedy, a protracted misunderstanding, and a final tearful resolution. Despite more than 300 pages of plot and exposition, real characters never arrive to flesh out Brashares' sketches. Her prose is bloated and occasionally pedantic — there is no doubt readers will understand the deeper philosophy the writer means to communicate, if only because the writer underlines it in triplicate. Brashares' technique alternates between stilted, extremely formal constructions and vapid, throwaway sentences. When the copyediting started to fall apart, about 100 pages into the novel, I was convinced the editor was having as much trouble taking the book seriously as I was. Not only could I predict the plot from chapter one; at no point did the writer make me care about the story or the characters. Even the sex scenes are coy and cool, as they would be in one of Brashares' YA books, and the serious problems of young adults living in an increasingly complex world are waved away, deferred for contemplation some vague time after Labour Day.

I'd been hoping that Brashares had more promise than her Travelling Pants premise permitted her to express — I was looking forward to a breakout book. Sadly, this is no breakout; it isn't even good summer reading. Clichéd, trite, underdeveloped and overwritten, The Last Summer (of You and Me) is a book to avoid.

Thirty Days in the Summer of 07

I took off 31 days from life to enjoy myself this summer.There are a bunch of pics here and hopefully an ongoing blog of the trip here.

Suffice it to say I was very relaxed upon my return...

Happy Birthday, Zak!

Hi Zak!

Happy Sixteenth! We hope your birthday is fun and wonderful, and wish you a successful and enjoyable year ahead. Oh, and lots of exploding. That too. : )

Lots of love,
Mom and Dad

They say you can publish documents from Google docs staright to your blog. Well if this works I guess it means you can. Thus all your bold or italics are then translated and colours too. Interesting.

In other new, it is 11 days till I and Zak head off on our adventure. I will try and keep a blog going over at macblaze.hopto.org. We are heading off to Canmore to take a climbing course (Intro to Trad) with Leslie and then she's back to work while Zak, Doug and I head to Lake Louise for a couple of days and then off to Waterton for a couple more. After that its catch as catch can until we hit Squamish on the 31st. Doug will take th train back and then Zak and I will meet up with Leslie in Vancouver on the 4th.

Then follows 8 days of sailing on this boat before we meander our way back home via Skaha oand maybe the Ghost Wilderness.

11 days...

Beautiful Sunday

Anyone remember that song?

Hi, hi, hi beautiful Sunday
This is my, my, my beautiful day
When you say, say, say, say that you love me
Oh, my, my, my it's a beautiful day

It's been a while since I've sat down to write. Lots has been happening, too. I remain chair of my program and have a mentor for my "practicum" year of leadership training. And now I must get busy writing my candidacy proposal, with the aim of taking my candidacy exam by Winter Solstice. A little faster than I had expected to do things, but probably in the realm of the possible. Tomorrow I begin a course on the work of Paulo Freire — lots of reading on the horizon!

To that end, here's a quotation from Gadamer:

To participate with the other and to be part of the other is the most and the best that we can strive for and accomplish ... We may perhaps survive as humanity if we would be able to learn that we may not simply exploit our means of power and effective possibilities, but we must stop and respect the other, whether it is nature or the grown culture of people and nations.

And further:

We live in separate realities, but we live with each other.

And from Freire himself:

I have the right to be angry and to express that anger, to hold it as my motivation to fight, just as I have the right to love and to express my love for the world, to hold it as my motivation to fight, because while a historical being, I live history as a time of possibility, not of predetermination. If reality were what it is because it was written so, there would be no reason to be angry.

Must fly — really must clean my office, and other stuff, before the house gets too warm. I hope to talk with you soon!

L

Rock On

Went climbing outside for the first time this year and visited Hogwart's and Waterknot Wall. Everyone did their fair share of leading (even Leslie) although she did comment that she considered coming down her reward for having to go up. Kind of makes her more of a descender than a climber but I guess everyone has their own schtick.




Opening day

Bruce starts the day off with some warmups on the easy Hogwart's Wall. It was a lovely day if a bit windy.


Zak follows up with some moves of his own.


Lelsie shows here moves with a couple of lead climbs of her own. She generally doesn't like to lead and that goes double for outside. She really rocked and pushed through a couple of difficult moments...

All this with an audience! (check out the spot below the wire-like shadow on the road and spot the sheep!)


Moving up the hill to Waterknot and a few tougher climbs, Zak shows off his safety-concious fashion sense. Only a 5.6, but the crux is below the first clip.


Zak moves on to the 5.11b...HARD! He pulls off the first three bolts before his fingers give out and he bails to give Dad a chance.


Bruce takes up the challenge and after a few attempts, finally dials in the next two moves but can't make the clip. After a couple of tries apiece, Zak and Dad bail and slink off to climb easier stuff.


Meanwhile Leslie is content to pummel the 5.8 into submission and work on her style points.


After a long day, we look back up the hill to the small cliff band (indicated) that makes up Waterknot Wall.

Seven big ones

A list compiled many, many years ago: seven phrases for ending (or at least redirecting) discussion, as identified by a master evader.

1. OK.
2. Right.
3. Sure.
4. So...
5. Anyway...
6. Whatever.
7. Never mind.

Of course, intonation is everything. Don't try this at home!

L

My youth...

I got this Corb Lund video off a friend's blog and it really reminds me of being young again...sigh...

Almost makes me a teary as Toby Keith's "I Love this Bar"...

For Mom

A pre- mother's day gift...

Thought for today

I can live for two months on a good compliment. — Mark Twain

Climb on,
L

Bricolage

Found in passing. Work, school, and technology conspire to keep me from resting. No, no, I do that to myself. Anyway, here are some kibbles and bits to keep you entertained and inspired. Stay well!

Leslie

**

They used to photograph Shirley Temple through gauze. They should photograph me through linoleum. — Tallulah Bankhead

I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once. — Jennifer Yane

The double agent looked up from his lunch of Mahi-Mahi and couscous and realized that he must escape from Walla Walla to Bora Bora to come face-to-face with his arch enemy by taking out his 30-30 and shooting off his nemesis's ear-to-ear grin so he could wave bye-bye to this duplicitous life, but the chances of him pulling this off were only so-so, much less than 50-50. — Source unknown

What the world really needs is more love and less paper work. — Pearl Bailey

A tree is a wonderful living organism which gives shelter, food, warmth and protection to all living things. It even gives shade to those who wield an axe to cut it down. — Buddha

Oh MY F'n GOD!

I have discovered GodTube.com and I am now officially scared...

I thought it was a joke...but nope, he's serious.
More here

Where's Terry Eagleton when you need him?

Just finished flipping through, grazing on, and generally musing about last year's collection 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die (a companion volume to 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die). If you haven't already seen it, you may want to spend some time with this book.

The collection presents an amalgam of high culture and popular titles, beginning with the ancients and continuing right up to 2005. The pre-nineteenth-century sections are quite thin; the twentieth century forms the essence of the book. It was produced in England and betrays some British favoritism alongside a strong American presence; interestingly, there are very few Canadian, Australian, or postcolonial authors included — there is, as we would have said in the 1980s, a clear Anglo-American axis. The bulk of the authors are male and white, and the listings make routine observations about those inclusions who are not male or white.

I truly wonder about the purpose of a collection such as this. It certainly evokes class-based standards for cultural knowledge and participation. Many of the listings use theoretical and formalist explanations for the selections, suggesting that only a reader with a thorough literary education will be able to appreciate the full meaning of the text. Many texts are glossed with information about their adaptation to the stage or screen — an access point for those unable to cope with the literary apparatus, perhaps? There is certainly more than a whiff of canon building in this book — and aren't we through with that yet?

I have an MA in English, the follow-up to an undergrad honours degree in English. While I'm not exceptionally well read, I had believed I have a reasonable literary background and a fair knowledge of major texts in English and world literature. This book has proved me wrong, wrong, wrong. I have read perhaps twenty percent of the "must-read" titles — and appallingly, I read at least half of those after receiving my MA. While I know where my weakness exists (primarily in concentrating on reading books by women and Canadians), I'd be interested to know how others fare when comparing their prior reading history to this prescription.

But this book has got me thinking. Perhaps one of the reasons I am no longer interested in completing my doctorate in English — why I am in fact completing a doctorate involving the deconstruction of English by way of another faculty — is that the class mechanism of English is simply too obvious for me now. The Department of English at the University of Alberta, my alma mater, is so interested in its self-construction as radical that it rarely stops to consider its own site of privilege or its complicity in oppression. Even decades after telling itself that reading literature doesn't really make us better people, the Department continues to chant the liberal motto of better living through literature. (Well, why not? It's the same bill of goods the rest of the schooling enterprise is selling.) And if you don't have access, you're really not one of us after all, are you? Of course, it's not all high modernism and the Leavises today; now the badge of admission is the mindless iteration of post-colonialism, identity feminism, and theoretical Marxism. Yet the song remains the same.

Where are the working-class poets? Somewhere in China, or Africa, or Southeast Asia, assembling your next DVD player, sewing your new lululemon leggings, or answering your calls at an international call centre. They're not here: the North American working class lives elsewhere now — and that whole notion of class is so out of date anyway!

And what has three decades of identity-based literary criticism given us? A powerful belief that individual identity trumps collective needs every time. A liberal embrace of the marketplace of ideas. A vague sense of dread that can be diffused only by consuming faster and faster the digital enhancements of a mediocre age.

So why should we read those 1001 books? There's no need, really. They'll be coming to you soon enough on Google Books, digested into their essential fibres for those with the means to buy them — or for the truly pixellated (and perhaps the pixillated too), on YouTube. Will civilization as we know it come to a lurch if we all don't stop what we're doing and read? We can only hope so...

L

Thought for the day

The people united will never be defeated...

Playing...

Made a few changes using the new template system. I'll have to put some thought into it. I used Adobe Lightrooms flash gallery to upload some Rip & Grip images. Have a peek. They are on the iMac at home so don't expect super fast response. Speaking of which I got the iMac back so be sure to swing by and visit macblaze.hopto.org. I turned the shaw space over to Zak and he's been busily uploading Halo pics. I made him hand code the web pages so they don't have the polish of packaged stuff, but overall pretty darn good...

In other news after viewing this clip, I now suspect EJ Woods has a second career. If ever there was a devious, anti-pet mind that would invent this contraption under guise of being helpful, Mr Woods is such a villian...