Building Buildings

I saw an interesting film by the Japanese filmmaker Teshigahara yesterday evening. Actually, I saw two interesting films by him, but the one that got me thinking most was called "Antonio Gaudí­." It was a visual essay of the Catalan architect's buildings in and around Barcelona, showing his influences, style, works, etc. Other than a small bit of narration at the end, it was just images. But the images were so visually interesting that nothing more was needed. Seeing the film did a couple of things to me. Firstly, it made me want to go back to Barcelona. Secondly, it reminded me of my first view of Gaudí­'s Sagrada Familia. I'm not sure if I had seen pictures beforehand, though I assume I had. I was walking down a street, following a not very good map, heading in the general direction of the temple, when I turned a corner and there it was, in all it's absurd, ridiculous and yet somehow majestic glory. As I stood on that corner looking at it, I started laughing, probably out loud (as only crazy people do when they're alone.) Remembering that tonight got me thinking about architecture. Now, I live in a city which many people would say is beautiful, but if I think about it what is beautiful about it? The mountains? The ocean? Did we build those? The geography surrounding Vancouver is beautiful, but what of the city itself? There are maybe 5 buildings in Vancouver that are noteworthy or visually interesting and I'm being generous in case I've forgotten a few. Sure, there are plenty of nice houses but nothing in the urban landscape here stands out, nothing is visionary or interesting or even absurd. Like this:


When I first saw this building I hated it, but the more I think about it, the more I love it. It is different, it stands out, and yes, it is crazy but you can't pass by without noticing it. It makes you aware of your surroundings. I've been in a few beautiful cities around the world, a few ugly ones, and a whole lot of mundane ones. I don't think Vancouver is ugly, but why can't our architecture be brilliant? Why can't we have structures that make me want to look at them, study them, love or hate them, talk about them, but most of all, not be oblivious to them? Sure, buildings need to be functional, but why can't they be fun and exciting too? Maybe I need to switch careers, become an architect and start designing the types of buildings I want to see. But then who would build them? Maybe I just need to move to Barcelona.

Desmond Dekker R.I.P.

Jamaican music legend Desmond Dekker died yesterday, a week before his next show.

Obituary

Trojan Records Tribute Page

As always, the music lives on...

Damn You, Hot Oven!

Last Christmas, Laura and I were given a pizza stone. For those unknowing, a pizza stone is a slab of super compressed sand that you put in your oven and bake pizza on. They're fantastic. Since we got ours, I've been making pizza a couple of times a week, minimum. Fantastically delicious pizza a couple of times a week, that is. I love the thing. I'm always going on about the thing. I'm a pizza-making fiend.

We're going camping this weekend, so I made pizza for dinner tonight, knowing I wouldn't have it again for a few days. It was a simple yet tasty affair with roasted red peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, olives, garlic and tofu.

Tragedy of all tragedies, sorrow of all sorrows, when I took the pizza out of the oven, this was the sight awaiting me:


The horror. The pain. The ecstasy of a freshly baked pizza mingled with the agony of knowing it could be the last one. I'm going to try to use it with the two chunks just pushed together, but I worry for both my future pizzas and the continuing integrity of the stone. This crack could, I fear, lead to many more, resulting in the eventual demise of my whole little pizza making enterprise. And I'm just not sure if I can deal with that right now.

Living A Cliché

I was walking down the street yesterday when I saw a dried banana peel lying on the sidewalk. It reminded me that I know two people that have actually slipped on banana peels. I am one of those two people.

Hairy Upper Lips

I'm not sure who came up with the idea, but this month at work has been declared "Moustache May." I guess that means I have to grow a moustache.

More Pictures

For those of you who actually look at these things, I've added a whack of Mexico City and Cuba pictures to my Flickr pages.

You can see them here.

Spurs Food Poisoning Update

Apparently the chicken and cow were fine, it was the lasagna that was dodgy.

Fourth Will Do Nicely!

Another happy football moment today. Arsenal went into the last day of the league season in a somewhat precarious position. They were 5th place, one point behind Tottenham Hotspur, the scum, Arsenal's main rivals. So Arsenal needed a win combined with a Spurs draw or loss to pip them into 4th place, which is the final Champions League spot for next season. (Unless Arsenal win the Champions League this season, then 4th place wouldn't matter, as the winner of the European Cup trumps whichever team has the lowest league position to qualify for the following year's tournament. And I've got to say, there would have been something very satisfying about the Scum getting 4th spot in the league and then being knocked out because the Gunners won the European Cup. But that is now neither here nor there.) Anyhow, Arsenal in their final game at Highbury, beat Wigan 4-2, with Thierry Henry (EPL top scorer, yet again) leading the way with a hat-trick. As for Spurs, apparently they ate some bad chicken or cow the night before, a number of them had food poisoning, and they lost to West Ham today. Maybe an Arsenal or West Ham supporter worked at the hotel where they had their dodgy buffet (the 2 teams are their 2 main rivalries); apparently there will be an investigation. Whatever. What it all comes down to is this: Today is now St. Totteringham's Day. For those unfamiliar, St. Totteringham's Day is the day when it becomes impossible for Spurs to finish the season with more points than Arsenal. Sure, it came very late this year, but it still came. A friend asked me a while ago if Spurs fans had an equivalent holiday. I'm not sure, but I do know this. If they do, it's been a bloody long time since they celebrated it. Happy St. Totteringham's Day folks.

Linocut #2

Spring Storm & Maypole Dancing

On my way to work this morning, as I passed an intersecting side street, a big gust of wind came my way and I was caught in a blizzard. Except it wasn't snow, it was soft pink cherry blossoms. Visibility was limited, yet pleasant. This is the time of year when Vancouver looks like it has pink snow in the gutters as the blossoms fall from the trees and gather there.

Happy mayday folks! I hope all of you workers of the world are out there uniting, and all you pagans are out there getting your freak on, baa-cha-bam!

Nemesis

I have two constant companions. I don't like them very much. One is doubt, the other indecision. Somehow I have managed to get this far in my life with those two hanging on my every word, echoing my every thought, mocking or chastising me constantly. They make it difficult to get anything done. At times I am able to ignore them, or get a step ahead of them so they are preoccupied with catching up, while I get on with what I need to be doing. But other times, it's as if they are a step ahead of me, they know exactly where I'm headed and have already figured out why I shouldn't go there and do that and they have no qualms about telling me what those reasons are and that, really, I'm an idiot for even thinking about it in the first place. I have a somewhat analytical mind, but when that analysis is turned to examine a problem or dilemma of my own, it becomes crippling. My ability to see all sides of an issue make it somehow impossible to actually make a resolution and follow it up with action. I just mull it over and over and over and over and over, ad infinitum, ad nauseam. And do nothing about it. When I get like that, I get stuck in my own head and it makes me a little crazy. It's like spending all of your time with someone that you don't really like, yet for some reason you can't make them go away. For a long time I assumed that all people were like this, that everyone had minds on overdrive that wouldn't just shut up, but I've since learned that this is not so. No, some people are actually able to think their way through a problem, make a resolution and then do something about it. Annoyingly, I am not one of those people.

Directions

I bought a new pair of headphones today, so I can listen to music at work and tune out all of my co-workers. These are the instructions that came with them:

Wear the earpiece marked "R" on your right ear and the one marked "L" on your left ear.

Thank you for the help.

Yiiiipppppeeeee!!!!!!!!!!

I really can't believe it. Today Arsenal scraped out a nil-nil draw against Villareal to earn their spot in the Champion's League Final, against either Barcelona or AC Milan. This is the worst season Arsenal have had in the English league in a decade, yet somehow, in the year when no one expected it, when everyone had written them off, they've gone and made it this far. I had a doctor's appointment this morning about some neck pain that the doctor suggested was probably stress related. So after my doctor's appointment, I went to an Italian cafe to drink lots of espresso and watch Villareal miss chance after chance after chance against some of the sloppiest Arsenal defending I've seen in a long time. How's that for a stress reliever. Idiot. As I was watching the game, I began contemplating something I often do when watching my chosen sport, which is: why do I watch this sport? It's often dull and uninteresting, other times it is downright maddening, and more often that not, particularly when a team you support is involved, it is far too stressful to actually be "enjoyable." It is supposed to be enjoyable, right? It is only a game, right? I was thinking about these things when the referee awarded Villareal a very dodgy penalty in the 89th minute and I knew exactly where this was heading. (For the record, the one goal wouldn't have been enough for Villareal to win, just to send the game into extra time, and give them a whole lot of momentum.) But, somehow Jens Lehmann the Arsenal 'keeper guessed the right way, and saved Riquelme's (of all people) shot. And then somehow, Arsenal held on for the 3 minutes of stoppage time and were into the final. Which I still can't believe. I was actually shaking for a good long while after. Part espresso, part nerves, part joy. And that was the answer to my own question of why I watch. It's about drama, the low points of which there are many, and the oh so sweet highpoints of which there are few. But damn do they make it worth it.

Flickr!

Alright, now that my digital camera is back from the shop after the robotic mishap, it's time for me to get serious about my photography career. So I've started a Flickr page where hopefully I'll be posting some photos. Here it is. Or you can link to it from the sidebar long after this entry has been buried under the weight of new posts.

Stop Thief!

I was having dinner at Sitar with some friends this evening. About 30 metres away from the front of the restaurant my bicycle was locked to a parking metre and my helmet was locked to the bike. After dinner, a lovely meal of malai kofta with naan and vegetable pakoras if you're interested, when I went out to head home, I discovered that I was the victim of a crime. The bike was still there, as was the helmet, but some jackass had taken one of the plastic clips that holds the two straps together, thus rendering the helmet useless. Who the hell does that? Who needs one plastic clip from a bike helmet? Sometimes I like to think that there is only ever one BMW with a missing hood ornament at any given time, and that the person who owns it will steal the next one to replace it, thus continuing the cycle. Maybe this is something like this. I guess I have to find a match and swipe it. But I don't want to do that. So, if you are the one who stole my one little grey clip from my bike helmet and happen to be reading this, I'll make a deal with you. Leave it in my mail box and there will be no questions asked. Otherwise, I will find you.

Enough With The Pictures Already!

I have a digital camera. I use it a lot. If I'm out walking, I'll take pictures of various things I find visually interesting. If I'm out with friends, I, and all of my friends it seems, will take random snapshots of the evening's goings on. Before I get started, I'll say right away that I am well aware of the contradictory nature of complaining about something that I do, but I'm okay with contradiction. It's one of my many middle names. But it has gone too far. I remember a time. A time not so long ago. Perhaps a better, if slightly less technologically advanced, time. It was a time when I could go out with friends, drink way too much, make an absolute fool of myself, feel a little embarrassed the next day, laugh about it with those friends, and move on. Those days are gone. Now, in every crowd, there's always some joker with a digital camera or phone just waiting to pounce. At the first sign of drunken tomfoolery, the snapshots start coming thick and fast. And when in the past you had that slight embarrassment the next day, it was coupled with vague stories and a blurry memory. But now, you have the blurry memory coupled with photographic evidence. Damn embarrassing photographic evidence at that. In some cases, edited into a montage with musical accompaniment. I believe that inherent in mockery, is a desire for social control. As in, we laugh at you, because you are acting somewhat out of line with our social norms. We laugh at you because that is a simple first attempt to bring you back into line. But the mockery that accompanies drunken photos, especially ones posted on the interweb, has none of that element to it. No one wants you to stop with the drunken shenanigans...they want it to continue so they can have more drunken shenanigan photos. It's downright mean spirited, I tell you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sort through my digital camera photos to figure out which drunken friends I can embarrass here.

Note To Self

Dear Self,

(re: the previous entry)

Please don't write blog entries after you have been drinking. They make no sense.

Thanks,
Self

Misconceptions

Sometimes you think everything is going just the way you want it to be going, but sometimes you are just plain wrong; it's not going like that at all.

Life's Big Questions #1

Why does the Blogger spell check always tell me that the word "blog" is misspelled?

I Wanna Love You Tender

This just may be the best worst music video ever. It's even better than the one with Mr. T wearing knee socks and short shorts.