Three's Company

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Yesterday was an exciting day - dinner in the Gay Village, Opera at the Hummingbird, and back to the Gay Village for a short drag show. It's definitely a venture I recommend trying - most amusing to see an opera then a drag show back to back. I'm sorry that Viv couldn't go, being out of the country, however, it was nice to see my old friend Jon - walk and talk across Toronto.

I think I had a surfeit of fun this weekend - farewell party at Jack Astors Friday night for a co-worker (who didn't show up). Then Saturday. On the down side, I haven't gotten much school work done. I should go re-read Astrophil and Stella - for the sake of class, as well as another topic to post on the blog. Cheers.

The Great Deluge Son

Brutus:

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

(Shakespeare, Julius Caesar 4.2.270-276)

Look Closely At The Bag...

Cubs At The Cottage Dump

Boy Meets Frog, Frog Meets Dog

The Cloud of Unknowing

With the advent of classes, it's going to be hard posting on a regular basis. One of my classes: the Writer / Critic with Professor Kuin is a blog-based course. So, if you wish to follow it, you can read on my counterpart blog, The Cloud of Unknowing. The wonted truth is the time between blog entries will wax as the school year passes. I expect to post on this blog only sporadically, more than likely nigh to the weekend.

The Original Wedding Crasher(s)

So, I started to read Titus Andronicus, when lo! I came across a passage (as I am wont) in the first scene that holds a peculiar fascination for me. It's really a theory I'm about to put forth, quickly, so I can get back to reading. The part reads as follows:

[MARCUS]
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed.

What caught my attention chiefly is the allegorizing language, set forth by Marcus, Titus' brother. There's a curious, extended metaphor at work here, rendering the funeral 'pomp' a safe, fortunate celebration of violent, brutal death. It is, moreover, built on (false) glorious imagery of ceremony triumphantly cuckholding 'honour' (a masculine virtue personified as a husband), and getting the best of 'chance' or Fortune (personified as a whorish woman) in bed.

It's All Greek To Me

A long night ahead, it looks to be, to finish my readings in advance for upcoming classes. I can't settle which to read first, Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus or Aristotle's Poetics, both readings due Thursday. More than likely it'll be Shakespeare as I just finished reading a Greek drama, Aeschylus's Eumenides, out of mere curiosity, though it is also a future reading for one of my courses. My brain is getting sundered, too, over what Shakespearean play on which I will present for my Advanced Shakespeare course. I am tempted to wait for Professor Cohen's instructions on presentations, but idle I should not be, or I'll lose my choice. My first inclination, perhaps a self-issued challenge, is to present on Troilus and Cressida - a play I read only this erstwhile summer. I just hope that we won't be studying this play at the same time, mid January, as I present on Tennessee Williams's Orpheus Descending in another course.

Leaving On A Jetplane

Just a brief post to tell that I saw Viv off this morning at the Airport. She is leaving for Trinidad, going for two weeks to attend a funeral, and to family. Off I am to school this morning. Who knows how much I'll post in this two week period.

Led By The Spirit Into The Wilderness

This morning, while sitting to eat breakfast, I continued to read 2 Henry VI and encountered another striking line. It's spoken by Suffolk, Gloucester's chief foe, after the King banishes him from England, accused of murdering his Royal's Protector. These lines are clever, covertly resonating with biblical undetones:

Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished--
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence,
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company.

Suffolk is here aligning himself as a Lucifer/Satan figure, against the likes of the King ('Jesus' or 'God') and 'thee' or Queen Margaret ('Eve'), punished as he was in serpent form by God. His speech works on an allegorical level, comparing his plight to the serpent of Genesis, chastised by God and enmity placed between he and the heirs of Eve (all of mankind). Like Lucifer, Suffolk sees he was once in 'heavenly company' (the chief angel of God / royal company of Henry VI) but now the 'wilderness' (expelled from heaven to earth / hell or foreign land = expatriate) will be his abode, the place where he tempted Christ. It is interesting, too, to consider, as Professor Cohen encouraged us, to see these scenes as commentary on political events contemporary to Shakespeare. Thus, I would compare it to the plight of religious (mainly Catholic) expatriates, expelled by Elizabeth's theocratic regime, at loggerheads with state religious beliefs.

I Will Stir Up In York Some Black Storm

The great lines of York, villain of 2 Henry VI:

I will stir up in England some black storm

Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell,

And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage

Until the golden circuit on my head

Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams

Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.

I Feel Like Chicken Tonight

I haven't much else to add to my erstwhile post, aside from a few events. Today Viv, my fiancée, had her first orientation shift at my work, Chapters, just a minor shift to fill out paperwork. It is quite a delight knowing we won't fret as much as last year, when we lacked time to see each other to the point I skipped (dull, tepid) classes just to see her. This year, however, we have four classes together and now we're employed at the same workplace. Aside from one nagging, persistent problem we're handling, this year looks to be positively sentimental for me and my fiancée.

I might have posted much sooner tonight, however, I finished cooking a recipe called Fake'N'Bake Chicken (not to be confused with Shake N Bake!) from a cookbook I received free from work. So, I sat down to grab a bite of this delightful morsel. The book is called Eat, Shrink and Be Merry by the same pair of ladies who did Looneyspoons. A little bean salad on the side leftover from fiancée's erstwhile cooking made it the perfect derelict dinner, too.

Now it's time to boil some water, have a tea, and sit to read Henry VI Pt.2 for an upcoming class.

First Week of Class

The first week of school is over. All my classes, except one (which I haven't had yet), were quite exceptional. My professors this year are: B.W. Powe, Derek Cohen, R. Darren Gobert, John Van Esterik and Roger Kuin. With the exception of one, Mr. Van Esterik, these professors were chosen mainly because of word-of-mouth, personal recommendations. I can see that I won't be let down this year, but challenged, for a change. The best part so far: most of my profs abhor final exams, and would prefer assignments, tests, quizzes and presentations to reflect our effort.

I'll post more than a minor update later, after I work 12 to 8 today.

The Slave Ship (Or Fourth Year University)

Slavers throwing overboard the Dead and Dying -
Typhoon coming on ("The Slave Ship")
by J.M.W. Turner

Upon The Face of the Waters

I finished reading Brown's Wieland or, The Transformation, a book with unflagging merit and brutal insight into the latent religious fanaticism haunting an early, off-kilter, independent America. It is hard to deny the appeal of these books, though I've read critics calling the language somewhat neo-classical, sometimes convoluted by modern standards, and somehow not gothic enough compared to contemporary European writers. The trouble lies not in the novel, but in our contorted image of what gothic means, as we expect 'literal' portrayals of ghosts, vampires, ghouls, zombies, &c.. It is not, however, my intent to raise a quibble about how we look but do not see when we read. Once again I came across another passage in the Bible, still Genesis, which uplifted my attention to something loftier. In the account of the Flood, Noah and his kin safe in their vessel, there is a particular episode symbolizing (prophecies?) the ark of the covenant (type?), and shines some light on what happened before the opening lines of Genesis.

(17) And the flood was forty days upon the earth ; and the waters increased, and bare up the ark, and it was lift up above the earth.
(18) And the waters prevailed , and were increased greatly upon the earth; and the ark went upon the face of the waters.

The eighteenth line caught my attention because it resonated with Genesis, Chapter 1:

(1) In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
(2) And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

The ark is a symbol of God, not merely anticipating the ark of the covenant, but also a secret revelation into the account of Genesis. The phrase 'upon the face of the waters' tipped me off, automatically linking it in my mind as a hidden allegory, simultaneously type and antitype. This reveals that the account in Genesis is a second creation, if you consider, when He repaired His world from the chaotic abyss it became with the tempestuous destruction wrought during the Heavenly War with Lucifer/Satan. This explains why God is wroth with the sons of God, or Angels, for procreating with the daughters of man to create the Nephilim , and mankind for succumbing to bloodshed, sin, and debauchery as the fallen angels had before them.

Does your TANAKH translation confirm this idea, Viv?

Why Art Thou Wroth?

While perusing, and reviewing Genesis tonight I came across a part of the tale of Cain, at least in the King James translation, that I couldn't recall reading before. It follows the account of Cain waxing wroth after God rejects his offering, a stria in the midst, before Cain slays Abel. In the edition I'm reading from -- a Riverside King James -- it goes as such:

(6) And the LORD said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen ?
(7) If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted ? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.

For a modern reader, including myself, I suspect that the seventh verse might be a tad befuddling due to the ambiguous gendered pronouns / possessives. I was confused, was this a prophecy? Was the 'his' referring to Abel? Or to sin? I sought a different translation, the New Revised Standard Version, to elucidate. It reads:

(6) The LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen ?
(7) If you do well, will you not be accepted ? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it."

What is the meaning of this passage?

'I Approached The Corpse'

From Brockden Brown's Wieland or, the Transformation:

I approached the corpse: I lifted the still flexible hand, and kissed the lips which were breathless. Her flowering drapery was discomposed. I restored it to order, and seating myself on the bed, again fixed stedfast eyes upon her countenance. I cannot distinctly recollect the ruminations of that moment. I saw confusedly, but forcibly, that every hope was extinguished with the life of Catherine. All happiness and dignity must henceforth be banished from the house and name of Wieland: all that remained was to linger out in agonies a short existence; and leave to the world a monument of blasted hopes and changeable fortune. Pleyel was already lost to me; yet, while Catherine lived life was not a detestable possession: but now, severed from the companion of my infancy, the partaker of all my thoughts, my cares, and my wishes, I was like one set afloat upon a storm sea, and hanging his safety upon a plank; night was closing upon him, and an unexpected surge had torn him from his hold and overwhelmed him forever. (140-141)

Here's Looking At You, Kid

Humphrey Bogart You scored 45% Tough, 0% Roguish, 42% Friendly, and 14% Charming!

You're the original man of honor, rough and tough but willing to stick your neck out when you need to, despite what you might say to the contrary. You're a complex character full of spit and vinegar, but with a soft heart and a tender streak that you try to hide. There's usually a complicated dame in the picture, someone who sees the real you behind all the tough talk and can dish it out as well as you can. You're not easy to get next to, but when you find the right partner, you're caring and loyal to a fault. A big fault. But you take it on the chin and move on, nursing your pain inside and maintaining your armor...until the next dame walks in. Or possibly the same dame, and of all the gin joints in all the world, it had to be yours. Co-stars include Ingrid Bergman and Lauren Bacall, hot chicks with problems. Find out what kind of classic dame you'd make by taking the Classic Dames Test.

Rise of the New Weird, a Dissertation Topic

Although I won't be going on to graduate school right after my undergraduate degree is done, due to growing responsiblities, I still want to get my Master's degree eventually. I know exactly what I wish to write for a topic - the significance of the New Weird movement in terms of modern fantasy - which I have been steadfastly studying in my free time. Part of the idea is inspired by figures like McLuhan, who pioneered the way we re-conceive old myths in a modern world. In light of some research, I discovered one of my favourite authors, China Miéville was leading a war against Tolkienesque fantasy. He wanted a revolution, which he, among many other modern fantasy writers, are waging, harrowing the archaic vision of Tolkienesque fantasy unawares. The idea is to trace the skeins of the New Weird movement, its precepts (revolutionary forms of art, literature and film e.g. Surrealism, Futurism,) and their literary forefathers (Lovecraft, Dunsany, Marinetti, Ernst, Peake), to outline what it stands for, and what it stands to re-define in fantasy. I want to study some influential pieces of literature, tracing its developments from medieval romance to modern fantasy, studying each of their revolutionary ways of re-defining romance, from its medieval inception (12th-15th), to Gothic (18th-19th), to Weird (early 20th), to Post-War / Tolkienesque (mid-20th), to New Weird (late 20th/early 21st), most importantly the strangle-hold of Tolkienesque fantasy.

Romance, as a literary genre, is chiefly concerned with the role of the past, and its haunting manifestations in the present. The critic, Geraldine Heng, in her study of medieval romance, locates its origins in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain. Heng studies the “skeins of magical narratives” (Heng 4) woven into this influential, pseudo-historical book written in the twelfth century, examining what she insists is a safe, original allegory that confronts a great historical trauma in its narrative. The shocking acts of cannibalism committed by the Crusaders in 1098, in turn, become linked as a founding, poetic metaphor with a British legend and a language of military conquest, or colonization. This particular moment is quite significant as it marks the foundation of one of the most influential myths for our times, the King Arthur legend. Later this legend will develop in the hands of the twentieth century writer, J.R.R. Tolkien, who will make a traditional, yet, equally innovative vision of past romance anew for the modern world. Until the rise of the New Weird reformation led by China Miéville, a Luther to the Romish Tolkien, the Oxford dean holds an important, popish role in our cultural vision of modern romance aka fantasy literature for half a century.

Wieland, or The Transformation

Congratulations to Viv, my fiancée, who passed her driving test earlier, and will, inevitably, get to drive our lovely new car. I just have to speak to my insurance company, after the long weekend, then she'll be burning rubber across town. If the town ends up red, you'll know she was out painting the town, perhaps in tribute to the car's fiery colour.

I'm reading a chilling 18th century American gothic novelist, Brockden Brown, incidentally, as dark clouds are starting to ensconce the blue skies here in Meadowvale. Before compulsory class readings begin, I figured I'd take in one last recreational book. The book I selected, Wieland or, The Transformation, was written in 1798 in the style of (Radcliffe) Gothic romances like The Mysteries of Udolpho (another title I had hoped to read this summer). Although a scant 58 out of 250 pages into the book, assuredly, I find this book mesmerizing. I'm particularly intrigued by the recurrence of an eerie, intervening, disembodied voice, which is haunting the main characters at their estate. Throw in the spontaneous combustion of the narrator's father, an American religious zealot, too. So far the most intriguing part of this novel is the sense of time artifacts, mechanical or human, such as the narrator's father's clocks, Albigensian (Cathar) books, Moravian wife. I was struck, in particular, by a comment made by the narrator concerning her father's grandfather clock, which she recalled establishes the haunted family's sense of time. That, and this fact compliments of the Charles Brockden Brown Society: "written in epistolary format, Wieland uses actual events—a murder in New York of a wife and children in 1781 by religious fanatic James Yates—as the basis of its story." A story written by the son of Quakers, about religious fanaticism, in the aftermath of the War of Independence. Interesting.