Another Episode of Odds & Sods

A few things from the dustbin of my brain on Leap/Hump Day...

• Today is Repetitive Strain Injury Awareness Day (no, do not attempt to say this 3 times quickly - no good can come of it).  It's scheduled for the last day in February.  On a leap year like this one, this results in it falling on the least repetitive day on the calendar.  Weird.
• Hint to the guy I passed on the right coming home from work - "passing the time" is not a good reason to be in the far left lane (i.e., the "passing lane") of the 401.  You pretty much have to be passing other vehicles for it to apply.  I only wish the MTO handbook for new drivers was a little more clear on the subject.
• Finally concrete evidence to explain why incompetent people are so endlessly frustrating - they simply do not think (or won't admit) that they are incompetent.  Says here that even when offered a reward, they can't predict how poorly they've done at a task with any accuracy.  Hmmm... that does explain a few things.  Warning:  if you think you're competent, they might be talking about you, but how would you know?
• After listening to a lot of new music, thought I'd plug a few recent releases by artists who are worth checking out:
• John K. Samson - Weakerthans (from Winnipeg, MB) front-man released a solo album on January 24th that is typically terrific.  Check out the video for "Longitudinal Centre" here.
• Young Galaxy - ok, so it's not that new, but another Canadian act that has put out a ton of very good, catchy music.  Check out "Blown Minded" here.
•  The Big Pink - if you like 80's influenced synth-pop (and you need something to wash Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks" out of your frontal lobe), check this out.
• The Wombats - you've likely stopped dancing to Joy Division, but the new Wombats release is pretty decent, too.  Here's "1996".
• Again, it's not brand-spanking new, but Wilco's most recent albums is awesome.  Here's a live version of "Whole Love", recorded on the Letterman Show.  Yeah - remember when Letterman was relevant?  You're old.
• The Decemberists - I'll admit that I don't think they can ever do anything wrong and that Colin Meloy is a genius, but Down By the Water could be the best thing they've done to date.  Instantly catchy.  This version was recorded on Austin City Limits.
• Like Mumford & Sons?  Try Of Monsters and Men - "Little Talks" is "Little Lion Man" with a brass section and some female vocals reminiscent of early Björk (ca. the Sugarcubes) - you may even hear a similarity with the Beautiful South, if your memory is long and your tastes ran that direction in the 80's.
• Can't forget the new single from the forthcoming Shins album, due out March 20th.  Here's "Simple Song".

Man, Woman, Sofa now posted to the Danforth Review

For those who are interested, the short fictional piece (originally titled, "Josephine") has now been published to the Danforth Review site.

Happy reading!

Of the Walking Dead and Individuality

As I drove home down the 401 tonight, I got to thinking about why the Walking Dead speaks to me.

In the typical zombie story, the heroes (usually a small, rag-tag group forced together by circumstances) are vastly outnumbered by hordes of slow, dim-witted, single-minded monsters.  It's unlike the typical slasher movie where the viewer is asked to identify with the group (think of the teens in Carrie or in any of the Hallowe'en or Friday the 13th films, or the victims of "Jigsaw" in the Saw franchise) as it tries to flee, outthink, or simply defeat the individual ghoul, freak or psycho. In the zombie movie, it's the group that we fear while we side with or emulate the individual in his or her desire to escape.  The viewer roots for the survivors, perhaps in a narcissistic self-identification with their plight.  You want them to persist despite the ridiculous odds, maybe because of the analogy between the survivor's story and our own experience of the workplace, the shopping mall, the grocery line-up or highway traffic.  Our own understanding of the dangers of "the mob" appears to shape our tastes.  In some subconscious way, do we perhaps see a bit of our (idealized) selves in these average individuals pitted against the savage masses? 

Maybe I'm overthinking it (that happens when you spend copious amounts of time behind the wheel on a road you know too well), but I think this may be the reason I can tolerate or even enjoy the Walking Dead while I can't sit through a typical horror movie.

Interestingly, another writer has come to similar ideas about the zombie genre's "hyper cynical, nihilistic sort of individualism" which arises out of fears of a world on the verge of apocalypse where the only person you can count on is yourself.  In an age when the state is withdrawing from many of the social protections that we have come to rely on (particularly following the economic downturns of the past few years and the failure of the markets to redistribute wealth in any meaningful way), it is understandable that we might be fascinated with the concept of self-reliance in an increasingly lawless world.

While I'm not sure about the depth of concern expressed by the piece linked above - which is admittedly rather bleak - the appeal of the zombie genre now makes sense to me personally, at least.

What do you think?

Returning from Miami

A few thoughts on returning from a business trip to Miami.

*   *   *

My first time in Miami (and South Florida generally) gave me the impression of a very wealthy Latin American country – the palm trees and the layout of the streets and the architecture all had the feel of a location more tropical and less concerned with rules.  It was almost like a resort (complete with Policia all over the place).  I think I heard more Spanish spoken than I did in Cuba or Costa Rica.

*   *   *

The airport was part fashion show, part sad parade, as places of coming & going usually are.  Three soldiers in camouflage walked by and I almost didn`t see them.  Almost beautiful girls on improbable heals wearing impossibly tight clothing tried to catch everyone`s attention inconspicuously.  Old people snored as their grandchildren ran around the terminal.  I tried to focus on the New Yorker article detailing the abuses of US campaign laws, the undisclosed, unidentified monies flooding into the two sides of the Republican stand-off through the SuperPACs – but the coming & the going kept grabbing my attention by the throat. 

The flight was delayed.  I returned my darting eyes to the New Yorker, less than fascinated.

*   *   *

I got to my seat near the back of the plane.  The residents of the other two seats in my row had conveniently stowed all 3 of their bags in the overhead compartment above our section, leaving no room for mine.  I politely suggested they put one of their bags under one of the seats in front of them.  They feigned an ignorance of English and resumed an aloofness that made me retreat.  I put my bag in someone else`s overhead spot, who in turn complained that they had nowhere to put their bags. 

The row of seats behind mine was empty.  The male steward offered the opportunity to move back a row.  I did so and had all three seats to myself to continue reading my magazine. 

With access to the window, I watched as the plane climbed through cloud cover, Miami and Key Biscayne (with its lavish homes, yachts, a golf course) slowly receding and then eclipsed by a blanket of cloud. 

Soon Miami was just a distant spot on the ground and I was already somewhere else.

*   *   *

We broke cloud cover with a few shudders, and there lay the grid of the GTA; pinpoints of orange and white light spread out in all directions as far as I could see.  Flying into the city at night once again reminded me of the glow that comes from the embers of a campfire.  The same orange pulsating light scattered across a black canvas. 

There was a warmth to the scenery, as if you could hold your hands up and feel the heat, and it matched the mood of returning home.

Within an hour it would start to snow.