on a personal note...

And now for a rare update from my actual life. I spent last week in Memphis, Tennessee, and on Sunday afternoon, in Memphis Botanic Garden, I asked my lovely girlfriend Biz to marry me. I'm very happy to report that she agreed.

Here we are at the Butler residence afterward, looking all happy and what not.

rough draft of a poem

In lieu of posting about Anthony Doerr and what one might call the aesthetic argument for the existence of God (stay tuned), I’ll throw this poem out there in its less-than-completed form.

“question and answer one”

I am not my own – before which I must
add, neither am I my small instestine
or pancreas. Are they parts of me? I could go
without intestines for an hour or two
and still be me, until my digestive system
collapsed and I’d go off to meet Him who owns
me. Lose five pounds and I am less a man
than before. But no one wants Descartes
to be right these days, it’s too
boring and easy to say
that we’re just lights shining
out of the houses we call bodies, our eyes and hands
like cars in driveways saying yes,
someone’s home, you can knock and
maybe I’ll let you in. What we’re made of
is basically earth and water plus
the bits we can’t understand, which parts
amount to nearly everything. Sinew and bone
and a soul and spirit to ward off
our reversion to the dust. And it’s amazing really
how we’ll build a space needle,
twelve skyscrapers perhaps, split the atom,
invent golf and learn
to sew and also taekwondo,
but how we are made, and what
exactly we are, that’s another thing altogether,
we have brains but not the capacity
to understand them. We just do
the fanciful things they tell us. Start wars,
cure diseases, weep for love,
wait outside in the driving rain for a bus
that’s usually late and sometimes it
never arrives at all.

"rise up, and lift thy swords"

Mid-June is here, which means the Stanley Cup playoffs are over. I thought this year’s playoffs was more entertaining than most, featuring plenty of great matchups (most notably the epic Pittsburgh-Washington series). Right until the final round, the atmosphere in every building was palpably electric, owing in part to the pregame ceremonies put on by many of the clubs. Detroit and Pittsburgh in particular definitely know how to get their fans pumped up for the game. On which note, I was reminded of the all-time benchmark example of what not to do before a game: the Ottawa Senators’ introduction to their April 14, 2008 matchup against the Penguins. Whoever dreamt up this stunt was likely fired the following day. See for yourself:



What’s the most embarrassing thing about this intro? Is it the fact that the mighty Spartan’s oversized helmet keeps slipping down over his eyes? Is it the fact that his mic keeps cutting out on him? Is it the fact that despite his over-the-top, Churchill-inspired claims that “Victory will be ours” and that “We will never surrender,” the Sens not only lost the game 4-1, but were swept in four quick games by the Pens, who barely broke a sweat in the series? Or is it the fact that his script is clearly taped to the back of his shield (see 1:29)? Hard to say, really.

When he starts shouting “Rise up” to the fans, even the Ottawa faithful turn on him and start jeering. I think Alfredsson’s expression at the 0:16 mark says it all. The Leafs may not have made the playoffs for the fourth straight year, but it’s this kind of thing that gets us Sens haters through the long off-seasons. Keep up the good work, Ottawa.

establish the work of our hands

Last month was the first since January 2005 during which this page did not change in appearance; perhaps not entirely fortuitously, it was also the month in which I turned 25. At about that age one begins to find that there’s a lot more to life than blogging. The hiatus was not intentional, but it was probably timely and will likely continue except for intermittent posts.

On my birthday I like to read Psalm 90. Moses wrote Psalm 90 thousands of years ago, and the great thing about it is how directly and powerfully true every word of the psalm is still today. I think of it as a brief primer on life itself – everything you need to know about living and dying before God is here, complete with Moses’ Christlike closing supplication for God to grant His people their daily bread. We’re all ageing (yes, even you), and as we do, it’s good to be in this mindset.

Psalm 90

A prayer of Moses the man of God.

1 Lord, you have been our dwelling place
throughout all generations.

2 Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

3 You turn men back to dust,
saying, "Return to dust, O sons of men."

4 For a thousand years in your sight
are like a day that has just gone by,
or like a watch in the night.

5 You sweep men away in the sleep of death;
they are like the new grass of the morning-

6 though in the morning it springs up new,
by evening it is dry and withered.

7 We are consumed by your anger
and terrified by your indignation.

8 You have set our iniquities before you,
our secret sins in the light of your presence.

9 All our days pass away under your wrath;
we finish our years with a moan.

10 The length of our days is seventy years—
or eighty, if we have the strength;
yet their span is but trouble and sorrow,
for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

11 Who knows the power of your anger?
For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you.

12 Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

13 Relent, O LORD! How long will it be?
Have compassion on your servants.

14 Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
for as many years as we have seen trouble.

16 May your deeds be shown to your servants,
your splendor to their children.

17 May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us;
establish the work of our hands for us—
yes, establish the work of our hands.

the softer side of karen o

This weekend it felt like spring was finally here to stay, and even though it isn’t, this being Canada, I’m marking the occasion by directing your attention (if I still have it) to the only truly great pop song I’ve heard so far this year: the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ “Hysteric,” from their latest release It’s Blitz. Pretty much note-perfect.

dementia

I’ve been thinking about this poem lately – what it says about the relationship between the soul and the body. Written by Gayle Reed Carroll of Pittsburgh, Pennslyvania, it’s this year’s winner of the 2009 Thomas Merton Prize for Poetry of the Sacred.

“Dementia”

Deep in trees, birds sang with so much heart
they seemed to dance on the risky twigs
Leaves shuddered, moved by a man's restive excitement.
Or was it he, moved by the passion of leaves?
His house had lodged itself among the branches.
But that was his time of longing.

Now he only wants the house to enclose him
the way house is enclosed in tree, tree in sky,
sky snug in its cabin of stratosphere.

So much passes, and still he stares at leaves, as if
that's where complaint begins and ends.
The sky is armed with hawks.
Wounded leaves give up, decay.
Even the wind is astir.

What runs between sky and ground he numbly watches.
For callers, only the best of friends,
to whom he speaks, as if at his elbow
someone waits to explain.
But the longer that someone is silent
the more the man sits still.

Who can explain?
His eyes are plates of fog. He speaks
to those who have vanished, those who have stayed.

And what will we, the listeners do?
Putting in our own years,
convincing ourselves we matter.

He gazes into our eyes as if they were gates
through which he must pass for understanding.
If we knew such gates
we would pass through them ourselves.

stuff white people like: amateur photography

With apologies to Christian Lander, I thought of another category within the plethora of Stuff White People Like and figured I’d throw it out there. Keep in mind that I, as a self-admitted White Person who likes taking pictures, am included in the ranks of those I describe in this post. So if you are too, don’t take it too personally.

Here goes nothing:

Almost all white people own a camera, and at least 75% consider themselves pretty good photographers who, in their own words, “have a bit of a knack for capturing a moment.” On their requisite backpacking trips through Europe, white people like to go to tourist spots at sunset or nightfall and take pictures of the tourist landmarks. However, they will refrain from taking what they scorn as “conventional” tourist photos: instead, they will do their utmost to make their pictures as artsy as possible. Unlike typical (or worse yet, Asian) tourists, white people themselves will rarely appear in these photos. If they do, they will stand off to one side, gazing into the middle distance with calculatedly expressionless or pensive faces. To differentiate their photographs from standard touristy fare by making them appear more artistic, white people will often take pictures in a black-and-white, sepia, or old-fashioned setting. For similar reasons, white people also prefer to take pictures from edgy, unconventional perspectives – for example, they might take a close-up, in sepia, of only half of a well-known landmark. White people will line up beside dozens of similar-minded white people to take their artsy, unique photographs. Later they will edit them carefully on their iMacs, ignoring the fact that photos just like theirs are being taken by dozens of white people at these same tourist spots every single day, and being edited on similar iMacs.

In order to up the coolness quotient of their photos and impress others with their skills in photography, backpacking white people love to visit out-of-the-way locales that other tourists don’t frequent. At such places, a white person will take many photos, both to validate their experience of being at such a singular, hidden place, and to enable them to casually brag to their other white friends about it later. “Oh yeah, I took this at three in the morning outside this tiny little dive bar in Prague. Some band was playing this folkish jazz music inside, I remember, and I stepped out for a quick smoke and breath of fresh air” – while white people generally don’t smoke, when in Europe it’s not only acceptable to do so, it’s encouraged – “and the clouds parted over the city, so I just had to squeeze off a couple shots.”

Some white people also love taking pictures of things that are utterly insignificant, such as an old lamp post or a dirty brick wall. They will spend five minutes or more taking close-up macro pictures of such objects, and then, ideally, put them on Facebook, because it is an easy way for them to show their friends that they see beauty everywhere in the world, even in overlooked places, and that they have artistic, emotionally wrought souls. What is to anyone else just a close-up picture of an old lamp post is to a white person a fragile mirror that displays, in its own broken and humble way, the ultimate wonder of life by unveiling one lonely but beautiful fragment of the deeply layered meaning of existence. Note: it’s advisable not to press a white person on exactly how this works, because they don’t really know.

White people love amateur photography because it provides them with a quick, easy way to be seen as artistic and soulful simply by pointing a camera and clicking a button. Digital photography enables them to skip over all the dedication, hard work, money – and most of all, talent – that it takes to be a real artist, such as a painter or sculptor.

A white person who takes artsy photographs might also secretly look up a few photography articles on Wikipedia so that they can casually mention photography-related terms like the “rule of thirds,” “aperture” and “shutter speed” to their friends. However, don’t ask them too many questions, because if pressed, their answers will generally reveal that they know very little about photography. In fact, as a general rule it’s not required to know a lot about photography in order to be friends with a white person. One rule of thumb: Anne Geddes is not cool, because she takes manipulative photos of small naked children; Annie Leibovitz is cool, because she’s gay and takes controversial photos and lives in New York City. If you want to be invited to the parties of a white person who likes photography, it’s a good idea to at least know who these people are.

"so far around the bend"

The National are one of my favourite bands because they always seem to manage to infuse their undeniable musicianship with real emotion, and this song, part of their side project Dark Was the Night and performed for the consistently excellent Pitchfork TV, is no exception.

w.h. auden's last words to henry james

. . . are apt to make one want to say "Amen":

Because the darkness is never so distant,
And there is never much time for the arrogant
Spirit to flutter its wings,
Or the broken bone to rejoice, or the cruel to cry
For Him whose property is always to have mercy, the author
And giver of all good things.

school rankings

Interesting stuff for anyone interested in grad school, which I am: the world's top 200 universities according to a 2008 survey by U.S. News & World Report. I don't totally understand the methodology behind these rankings, so I can't vouch for their accuracy - but see if you can find your school! (McMaster University sits comfortably at #117, largely owing to its strength in Health Sciences.)

And if your career, like mine, will have little or nothing to do with Health Sciences, this ranking might be of more interest to you: the same survey's list of the best 50 schools worldwide in the humanities.