A Decision

If I finish reading all of Eco's fiction, then I can buy myself a copy of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest.

But I need to finish the A Series of Unfortunate Events books first, not to mention Zafon's 3 books too. Did I mention I'm also re-reading Morrison's The Invisibles?

I also need to write a preface for a proposed work on Bowie, and now I have the big idea to expand and publish something about Feist.

And I want to buy one of those Starbucks Verismo machines, and I don't even really drink coffee (does a venti 6-pump vanilla latte breve count?).

And I want to buy Cabin in the Woods and The Avengers on DVD. And those books on Disney animation.

But first, if I finish reading all of Eco's fiction, then I can buy myself a copy of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest.

Sections 9-16 in Barthes' Camera Lucida

There are less questions asked below, but certainly an engagement with the text is required. In any case, I will dive in with section 9. Get a nice cup of tea, a fountain pen, and read along (or consult, more properly, after reading, and compare notes).

Section 9: The adventure of the Nicaraguan photo is from the "co-presence of two discontinuous elements, heterogeneous in that they did not belong to the same world ...: the soldiers and the nuns." (23) But the characteristic doesn't seem to translate to other photos by the same photographer (Koen Wessing).

I should mention here, completely off-topic: I'm listening to Bats for Lashes' album Twin Suns while typing this. That's all.

Section 10: Two elements whose co-present establish adventure:
1) the field of general interest for the observer--"studium"--"a kind of general, enthusiastic commitments, ... but without special acuity." (26)
2) "this element which rises from the scene, shoots out of it like an arrow, and pierces me."--"punctum" (26) He calls this a "sting, speck, cut, little hole. ... that accident which pricks me." (27)

These are central ideas from Camera Lucida; we will hear much more about these things throughout the book.

Section 11: He makes a judgment about many photos here, how they please (or displease) him without "pricking" him. (27) "The studium is of the order of liking, not of loving." (27) It is about understanding the intentions of the author, he claims. This is a particularly strange claim for Barthes to make, considering his views on authorial intention elsewhere.

Why does Barthes call the Photograph "dangerous"? (28)

Here he also lists the functions of photography: "to inform, to represent, to surprise, to cause to signify, to provoke desire." (28) He goes on to discuss these five functions in this order in the next five sections of the text.

Section 12: Here, Barthes shows how a photograph can inform, "to accede to an infra-knowledge." (30)

Section 13: Right at the start of this section, Barthes enters into the controversy as to who created photography and, of course, sides with the French. He also makes a definite link between photography and its parent, painting (because of framing and perspective). But then, he makes the link with theatre, because of Death ("however 'lifelike' we strive to make it ..."). (31)

Photography is a kind of primitive theatre, ... a figuration of the motionless and made-up face beneath which we see the dead. (32)

Section 14: Here, Barthes admits his failings in terms of being the "operator" of cameras. And it seems that he is being a little bit sarcastic (or mean) toward the photographer, suggesting the he or she is only after surprise (he calls this "the essential gesture of the Operator"). (32)

1) The first surprise, for Barthes, in the "rare referent."
2) The second is the ability to apprehend the gesture, to stop time.
3) The third is what he calls "prowess," the ability to see, for instance, the explosion of a drop of milk.
4) The fourth surprise is the "contortion of technique," playing with the technology of photography. (33)
5) And, finally, the fifth type is the "lucky find" of a whimsical, but natural, scene.

Barthes does not speak highly of these "surprising" photographs (at least, that is the sense I have).

Section 15: This is a difficult section on meaning in photographs, and portraiture in particular (remember that this section explores the function, "to cause to signify," above). What he does suggest is that "the semiology of Photography is ... limited to the admirable performances of several portraitists." (38) I what he calls "good photographs," the "object speaks" (at least). (38)

Section 16: Have you ever wanted to live in a photograph? Which one, and why?

For Barthes, this is a requirement: "landscape ... must be habitable, not [only] visitable." (38) He speaks here of a powerful notion of "home" (a notion that, for Barthes, evokes the Mother--this foreshadows his thought further in the book regarding his actual mother, and the obvious safety he felt with her, "a utopian time"). (40)

All, feel free to comment, post, enter into dialogue (especially P.W.).

The first part of a long term exploration of Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida

This post is the first in a weekly series of "dialogue" surrounding Roland Barthes' exploration of photography as a cultural process in his book Camera Lucida (the edition from Hill and Wang from 2010, with a Foreword by Geoff Dyer). I am guiding a student through a directed study of this book (and Barthes' comments regarding photography in general), and so these entries are supposed to represent both kinds of guides, as well as sort of discussion points. Hopefully, these are both helpful and thought provoking. This is an experiment, and all are invited to participate. Comments are welcome.

Right at the outset of the book, the author includes a Polaroid photograph by Daniel Boudinet from 1979. What do you think it was about the image of pillows and drawn curtains that would have enticed Barthes?

Dyer's introduction is full of wonderful points: Barthes' style is "compression and flow." (x) Perhaps Dyer's following statement is ripe for comment: "photography represents the advent of the self as other" (he attributes the sentiment to Barthes here). (xiv)

Consider Dyer's comments about digital photography:
- photograph as a record "of what has been";
- "photography as a technology in the process of becoming past, part of what has been." (xvii)

Section 1: Barthes cannot separate photography from cinema, but decides to figure out what it is apart from the other image-based media (or medium, I suppose, of film). He goes so far as to suggest that it (photography) doesn't exist.

Section 2: The various categorizations of photography, characterizations which could easily be applied to painting. He suggests that the photograph only means what it points to: "it points a finger." it is only a diectic language (that is, meaning is dependent on the context in which it is used). A photograph is always the photograph [of something]. (5) What is Barthes saying about photography as visual semiotics on p. 5? Why do you think Barthes capitalizes Pholography?

Section 3: He decides to look at only a few photographs (ones that he suggests "existed" for him, in order to "formulate the fundamental feature, the universal." (9)

Section 4: Important There are 3 impulses in photography:
1) to do (the Operator - this isn't Barthes)
2) to undergo (the observed subject)
3) to look (the subject observing)
For Barthes, photography is "the return of the dead." (9) He covers photography-according-to-the-photographer (#1 above) as simply a chemical and physical activity, but one outside of his experience. He leaves it alone. (10)

Section 5: Posing for the camera is a problem for Barthes. Photography, unlike painting or drawing, is anything but subtle - at least the artist can imbue the image with some character, whereas photography cannot. (11) "'Myself' never coincides with my [photographic] image." (12) What does Barthes say about painting in history here? What does Barthes mean by the following beautiful phrase: "cameras ... were clocks for seeing."? (15)

Section 6: Barthes constitutes #3 above - the spectator - and admits (simply) that he does not appreciate all photographs. (18)

Section 7: So, then, why the attraction to certain photographs? He talks about "advenience" or "adventure" of a photograph: "This picture advenes, that one doesn't." (19) The photograph that interests Barthes "animates" him. (20)

Section 8: He refers back to earlier sections here, suggesting that he could speak of photography in terms of "material essences" (science) and "regional essences" (perhaps sociology), but instead considers "sentimental" reasons.

I wanted to explore it not as a question (a theme) bust as a wound: I see, I feel, hence I notice, I observe, and I think. (21)

Hopefully the questions above will elicit some sort of discussion. There are (probably) no "right" answers, and I certainly don't know them all, but this is certainly a "rich text." It is a personal text, made quite evident by his observation of photography, or his desires for the photographic referent, as a "wound." His personal story comes out as he continues; Camera Lucida is a deeply personal book.

Some posts from my (now defunct) tumblr blog

I've decided to use my tumblr as something else, so I thought I would move some of the posts from there, to here, so as to not lose the gems of wonderfulness that are those posts. So, here they are, from earlier this year:

My first post on tumblr.

A University board member asked me whether I was “in media.” I mentioned that I was the professor of Communications & Media, so I suppose I was “in media” (of course, I think that’s all she meant). In any case, we had a great conversation about what we do in my University courses and what might be done in a community college. She appreciated the “analysis” portion of my courses, that one needs to understand what the “texts” of film mean. She didn’t use those exact words, but this is what she meant.

It made me think about discussions I have had regarding Zack Snyder’s film, Sucker Punch. I liked the movie; I thought it looked really good (there is a lot to be unpacked in that last statement of 6 words). Many would think that the film is a wonderful example of third-wave feminism, the notion that female erotic power can be used in favour of the female using it (awkward sentence, I know). But there is something wrong with Snyder’s film; I felt uneasy watching it, not only because I thought it looked good.

It might be an example of “third-wave feminism,” but it really does depend on the male gaze. It’s third-wave feminism with a whole bunch of voyeurism; now, maybe that’s an intrinsic part of third-wave, but I’m not so sure that the film is right.

These are the sorts of discussions I like to have with my students because, ultimately, this is more important and effective than saying, “Don’t watch it.”

Let these be initial thoughts. I may post more, or not. I’m just trying out tumblr, really.

I’m having trouble falling asleep, so I’ll write about an ill-defined “Theology of Desire.”

It is interesting how there are some atheists that I really admire; I don’t agree with them, but I really think they’re great. Consider the following: Salman Rushdie, Stephen Fry, Umberto Eco, Joss Whedon. And why is it that some of these atheists seem to know more about Christianity than I do, and seem to be able to explore such ideas with much more tact and intelligence than I can? Again, consider Whedon or Eco.

I’m currently (-ish) writing a paper on Whedon, suggesting that, in his work, one might find a kind of theology of desire (or, at least, his work can be considered a sort of lens through which a Christian theology of desire might be revealed). What do I mean by a “Christian theology of desire,” you ask?

That’s a good question, and I don’t really have an answer. But I can explore a bit of what I’m trying to get at (that is, my problem). I suppose that part of the allure that I feel when I watch some of Whedon’s televisual output (and I’m not really referring to Buffy here) seems to come from a place of desiring: I enjoy the company, if you will, that I see on the screen. I become part of a sort of community (albeit a fictional one that exists on a television screen). Without being overly dramatic, I desire those people (characters) on the show.

As the now legendary question went, “Are you speaking of a Nietzchean desire, or a Lacanian desire?” My answer remains, a Lacanian one. That is, perhaps it is that dastardly notion of wanting the one I can’t have (and the fact that it’s driving me mad) that so tugs at me.

And I think part of the allure has to do with aesthetics.

What a great cliff-hanger. Don’t you want to read more?

"Post-Meaning"

From Roland Barthes' Mourning Diary:

I brood over Tolstoy's story Father Sergius (recently saw the bad film). In the final episode he finds peace (Meaning, or Exemption from Meaning) when he encounters a little girls as she was in his childhood now become a grandmother, Mavra, who simply concerns herself with the family she loves, without raising any problem of appearance, of sanctity, of the Church, etc. I tell myself: that's maman. She never employs a meta-language, a pose, a deliberate image. That's what 'Sanctity" is.

These are some of Roland Barthes' thoughts about the neutral here, I think. And he defines what being "post-meaning" is all about as well: not employing a meta-language, a pose, a deliberate image. He speaks of this in Camera Lucida as well, when he explores the notion of the "true" photograph (impossible except in very young photographic subjects; otherwise, we know better and we pose).

Source: Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary, Richard Howard, trans. (London: Notting Hill Editions, 2011), 209. [This is a beautifully bound book, and wonderfully readable, especially because of its sewn binding.]

Startin' Monday

I'm thinking of beginning to read some Karl Barth (not to mention more Roland Barthes). I met with a friend recently who suggested that he and some friends of his were going to read Church Dogmatics together (but didn't end up doing much of that). I have a colleague that bought a highly discounted set of Church Dogmatics, and it has been sitting on his shelf for over a year; that said, I am tempted to buy a highly discounted set for myself so that I can have it sit on my shelf for a long while.

In any case, I found a copy of excerpts from the set, and I will begin reading that, and see what happens. If I happen to actually read a substantial portion of it (say, a chapter or something like that), then I will seriously consider the cheap 14 volume set. That said, I should also read some Roland Barthes (same pronunciation of the last name, different nationality, sexuality, religious belief, etc.). I am reviewing The Preparation of the Novel for a journal (due sometime in 2013); it will certainly be difficult. The book is a collection of his lectures, and probably not something meant to be published. Interestingly, his actual spoken lectures are somewhere online. I might make it a point to listen to some of them. My french comprehension is not really the best (especially France french, as opposed to Quebec french), so I'm not sure how useful it would be.

I am also preparing for the IASPM conference at Acadia University in June. I am presenting on Feist (again), and her Canadian-ness (again). I anticipate excitement on all sides.

I must also work on a proposal to publish a book on David Bowie's 1995 album, entitled 1. Outside. It is one of his most critically acclaimed works, but I don't think much of anything has been written about it. The publisher would like a proposed table of contents and some sample chapters. I have my work set out for me for the next short while.

By the way, the title of this post comes from the song, "Startin' Monday," by Terry Scott Taylor, from his album Avocado Faultline. I guess it's also a saying that people say, for when they're going to start doing things, like dieting and exercising and so forth. I'm going to do all of that too, by the way.

A quote

"Give me a drink," asks Jesus. The demand would appear to be double. Seated wearily at a well whose water is beyond reach, Jesus desires a drink. But he has another desire that well water cannot satisfy, as [John] 4:10 suggests "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would shave asked him, and he would shave given you living water." What Jesus longs for from this woman, even more than refreshing spring water, is that she long for the living water that he longs to give her. Jesus thirsts to arouse her thirst. His desire is to arouse her desire, to be himself desired. His desire is to be the desire of this woman, to have her recognize in him that which she lacks in herself. His desire is to fill up her lack. Only thus can his own deeper thirst be assured, his own lack be filled.

- Stephen D. Moore, "Are There Impurities in the Living Water That the Johannine Jesus Dispenses? Deconstruction, Feminism, and the Samaritan Woman." The Interpretation of John John Ashton, ed. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1997), 83.

Quoting from the recent report, "Regarding an ideological or faith test as condition of employment at Providence University College" by William Bruneau and Robert Chernomas:

If academic freedom means academic staff must be free from ideological, doctrinal, or theological tests, then one may argue Providence University College is a “university” in name only. The fact that Providence has been chartered by the Legislature of the Province of Manitoba gives Providence the power to say it is a “university.” But there must be substantial doubt that free teaching, instruction, research, and public comment occur at Providence.

As a professor in the employ of Providence University College, this last sentence by Bruneau and Chernomas is absolutely false. I also find it insulting, and makes me particularly uncomfortable.

You can read the whole report here.

I just posted the following to nicholasgreco.tumblr.com

A University board member asked me whether I was “in media.” I mentioned that I was the professor of Communications & Media, so I suppose I was “in media” (of course, I think that’s all she meant). In any case, we had a great conversation about what we do in my University courses and what might be done in a community college. She appreciated the “analysis” portion of my courses, that one needs to understand what the “texts” of film mean. She didn’t use those exact words, but this is what she meant.

It made me think about discussions I have had regarding Zack Snyder’s film, Sucker Punch. I liked the movie; I thought it looked really good (there is a lot to be unpacked in that last statement of 6 words). Many would think that the film is a wonderful example of third-wave feminism, the notion that female erotic power can be used in favour of the female using it (awkward sentence, I know). But there is something wrong with Snyder’s film; I felt uneasy watching it, not only because I thought it looked good.

It might be an example of “third-wave feminism,” but it really does depend on the male gaze. It’s third-wave feminism with a whole bunch of voyeurism; now, maybe that’s an intrinsic part of third-wave, but I’m not so sure that the film is right.

These are the sorts of discussions I like to have with my students because, ultimately, this is more important and effective than saying, "Don't watch it."

My Providence

New Post for a New Year

It is no secret that our family spent a week before Christmas at Walt Disney World in Florida. It seems that this has become a bit of a tradition for us, as we have visited that spot 7 times in the last 10.5 years (and are already in the planning stages to go in May of 2013). When we arrived this time, I had the big idea to write a paper on the experience, to try to decipher why I find it so appealing to return to the same theme park year after year (and, potentially, every second year for the rest of my life).

The point of such a study is the relationship between power and desire at Walt Disney World. My idea is that power (Disney power) is what elicits desire (at least in the opinion of this researcher). Foucault might ask where biopower fits in to this. Is there anything in terms of what society needs from its people? Does Disney contribute to biopower, the requirements of modern society? I also thought about Paul Virilio, r regarding speed and spectacle, two elements of the Walt Disney World experience that often results in overstimulation (so much so that the girls needed to stay at the hotel for a morning to "decompress"). I'd also love to respond to Jon Pahl's various criticisms of the "public theology" of Walt Disney World. I think I agree with some of his criticisms. I'm just not sure that they are so problematic (maybe Disney can be "redeemed").

Consider the Disney monorail for a moment: it is a kind of site of conflation of globalization and postmodernity (or maybe modernity, more accurately). I'm thinking about Harold Innis' notions of space/time bias as well as concepts such as space/time compression in globalization. Typing this out, I'm not sure if this works theoretically (or what my original thoughts were).

So, here are some keywords at the end for consideration: biopower, speed, "secular" public theology, space/time compression in a Baudrillardian space. I'm not sure this will go anywhere, but it's a blog entry for a new year, in any case.

Lady Gaga

I was asked by one of my students to post my recent thoughts on the song "Bloody Mary" by Lady Gaga, so I decided I would post it here. This fragment is a part of a much larger presentation on Gaga's "queer space." It isn't much, but it will probably be a paper one day.

Lady Gaga addresses the theme of death, I think, with a track on her newest album called “Bloody Mary,” a track which has recently been proposed (by her fans) as a “Halloween single.” In that song, Gaga sings, “I’ll dance dance dance / With my hands hands hands / Above my head head head / Like Jesus said.” This line always evokes strong imagery for me. When one considers lyrics, I think a simple question to ask, before “What does it mean?”, is “Why would she choose to write these lyrics?”, or “Why would she choose to sing these lyrics?” I wonder, why would she use such language? What did Jesus say? He certainly never talked about dancing with hands above his head, at least not in my recollection. He did tell his disciples, though, that they would have to carry their cross. Was Christ’s experience on the cross a kind of dance, with his own hands above his head?

The song is filled with agonizing screams, choir-like voices incanting the name “Gaga,” and the singer stating, “I won’t cry for you / I won’t crucify the things you do.” I read this song as a kind of defiant stance by the singer, suggesting that, though she be crucified (perhaps “carrying her cross,” as Christ said, a kind of “dance,” I suppose, one that demands that her hands be over her head as their nailed into the cross), she will not crucify others. Though she be judged, she will not judge. Here I must quote from Peter Kline: Gaga is “a figure we’d like to make capital off of (whether religious or cultural), but who instead confronts us with our own violence, and in doing so calls us to freedom.”

Later in the song, Gaga sings, “We are not just art for Michelangelo / To carve he can’t rewrite the agro / Of my furied heart I’ll wait / On mountain tops in Paris cold / Je ne veux pas mourire tout seule.” Here, perhaps she is pointing to her humanity (she is flesh, not art, no matter what others--or she--might say), what others might call the “human condition,” one of frustration (of “agro,” as shecalls it). Still, she will wait, as she does not want to die alone. Who is she waiting for?

Academic Freedom

I'm struggling right now with the notion of academic freedom in higher education in Canada. I'm thinking about this notion in the context of religious higher education. At the institution where I teach, all faculty are required to function within a certain framework of belief. If any work of the faculty fall outside of this framework of belief, then there might be a problem. Technically, this might seem to indicate a lack of academic freedom, though it is also a move against the agreed-upon framework of belief.

At my institution, I am restricted by a framework of religious belief. At all institutions, all academic work is restricted by an agreed upon framework of belief. There are certain subjects and viewpoints that are not acceptable even at public universities, and that might jeopardize employment.

I suppose the crux of the discussion is, what does academic freedom actually mean? What does it mean to have academic freedom within the bounds of explicitly-stated religious belief? What does it mean to have academic freedom within the bounds of implicitly-stated agreed-upon discourse?

I am struggling with these questions, in the light of CAUT's continued blacklisting of religious-based academic institutions.

What to say, what to say...

I'm preparing for class this afternoon, and wondering why I've forgotten my Dr. Martens boots at home.

I'm discussing the notion of appropriation with my class today, and using Dr. Martens boots as an example. The first experience I have with these kinds of boots were my friends wearing them in high school (the early 1990s). The people that I hung around with that wore them were of a certain ethnic group that are stereotypically well-off. In this case, I think they were, but I can't be certain. But they did wear the boots.

The other groups who wore the boots then were the local "skinheads." I was never sure if they were real skinheads or not (I remember one fellow in my class was rather quiet and seemingly kind, so this seemed to not quite mesh with the picture we might have of roving violent gangs). I do remember some of these folk at my high school wearing clothing that denounced racism, so maybe these were the nice kinds.

My sister used to mention that one of her professors in Biology wore Docs. I thought that was interesting (and I think my sister wore Docs before I did). Once I went to college (to take theology) after a few years at university, I also bought my first pair of Docs, for utilitarian reasons. We needed shoes to wear to chapel; there was a dress code in place. I thought it would be easiest to get a pair of shoes I could wear all the time, and the Docs seemed to fit the bill. So that's what I bought. I wore those for years, then amassing all sorts of pairs: a couple of 3-eyelet pairs of shoes, both black and oxblood; two pairs of boots, "greasers" (which I still have) and a pair of shiny black ones (the first pair of boots, probably upon going to grad school).

At some point, I wanted to get another pair of boots, but found out that they were no longer made in England (they have since introduced a line that continues to be produced in England). So I moved to another brand, Blundstone boots, which have proved to be more comfortable to me. But immediately after I bought mine, they also announced that they would no longer be made in Tazmania. So, mine were the last of the Australian Blundstones. I need new ones soon, and I'm trying to decide whether to go with new Blunnies (made in China, probably), or return to Docs (English-made).

In any case, these are an interesting example of appropriation. What I think is an excellent question to ask is, what do Docs (or Blunnies, for that matter), mean to me? Why do I wear them? For certain, there is much more that simple utility going on here.

Money

I've officially made some money on my book. The amount so far: $66.50.

You should take a moment and read this.

This.

Then, this.

(via here).

Queer theory

I received a call for papers from IASPM (that's the International Association for the Study of Popular Music, for those who might not know) today, and I found the write-up quite interesting. It deals with queer theory, and I think that it is one of the most misunderstood areas of theoretical inquiry around (especially in my immediate scholarly circles). So here is the write up:

Queer theory is likely one of the most well-known and controversial recent schools of thought, and its impact has been felt in the academic world and beyond. It appeared in the early 1990s in the United States, as a direct offshoot of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered) collectives, the work of Foucault (in particular, his History of Sexuality and ideas such as “biopolitics”), and Derrida’s deconstructionism. This school of thought, while in no way a homogenous trend, is characterized by the questioning of the notion of gender and the idea that sexual identity and behaviour would be genetically determined. In this context, queer theory formulates the hypothesis that sexuality is actually a social construction. This presumes that sexuality is not biologically stamped on human nature, but rather takes on ever-changing social forms, wherein a given individual can live out one or many sexual identities. This hypothesis leads us to call into question social classifications from the fields of traditional psychology, philosophy, anthropology, and sociology, which tend to look at one measure at a time for classifying individuals (class, gender, etc.).

Musicology has also fallen under the influence of queer theory, what with the research groups, books, articles, and dissertations that address previously unexplored or even taboo issues, such as the construction of sexual identity through or in music. From a methodological perspective, this school of thought has been part of the recent theoretical renewal at an international level, wherein “traditional” methods of musical analysis and historical musicology are used in concert with historical, sociological, literary, aesthetic, anthropological, and socio-geographical techniques. This allows the researcher to apprehend the construction process of the musical “object” and its social dimension in all its complexity.

If interested, you can find the original call for papers here.

By the way, I do this in my work, I think.

Update

This has been quite a week, especially in terms of my health.

I'm not dying or anything, but I have a terrible cold. I really don't care for it. And it isn't gone yet. (And it hasn't stopped me from writing in sentence fragments.)

In any case, I will begin to blog again presently. After all, there is really no excuse (except for the house being for sale, and coming home late, and having a daughter that continues to not want to sleep, plus all of the work for school, and the committee work, and the new program, and the fact that I have a cold).

Of course, I'm drunk with power, so I won't punish myself for not posting a blog post for the last 3 days; as professors throughout generations have exclaimed, "I've already taken the exam!" Even so, I will continue posting starting now (I've got the weekend to recover, after all). The Feist ideas are still germinating, and I'm beginning to think about the Gaga material I need to put together in earnest. Here's a hint on that latter material:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

You might think you know my answer re: Gaga, but you might be wrong. Or you might be right. Or whatever. I had better move on before my sentence fragments return.

Sick

And I don't mean that in the "cool" way either. I've got a terrible cold, and I don't care for it one bit.

I've decided to begin writing about Feist's new single and her status as Canada's "darling," and the celebrant of the CBC's 75th anniversary. There should be some interesting relationships there, I think. I'm also going to start the presentation on Gaga for the end of the month at Aqua Books in Winnipeg. It'll be a busy few weeks. Did I mention that I'm developing my paper from the U of W McLuhan conference into an essay for a book? Add that to the list as well.

And a new Stonehill album is coming out next week. I'm glad for that. But for now, I must sleep. I feel so terribly sick tonight.