Cause Celebre: Reasons why the last while, though chock full of crap, was still O.K.
Childhood Dreams:
I got to be involved in a film of an extremely graphic dissection of a hand. What's more I got to be the blood. THE BLOOD! It involved surgical tools and latex and lots of what, when I was a child, I had hoped filmmaking would be all about.
That's movie magic folks. It makes me excited.



Chaucer:
So you are a few hundred years dead, write in a language I barely grasp, are maybe a rapist and the subject of some excruciating essay writing...you can still weave a good yarn. Add to that the fact that half of the time you are finding creative ways to make farts more hilarious and you have my undivided attention, Sir. You truly are a stout carl for the nones.

Soft Sculpture:
1) I get to shop for supplies at Dressew and ogle the sexy fashion design students
2) I get to finally be hip enough to live out my project runway fantasies and demand certain lengths of fabric and haggle prices for the shoddy cutting by the cutting girls
3) It's more satisfying than a piece of crap cardboard thing
4) I get to talk about erotic shapes in front of my class (and they get to feel a fake boob!)
5) I can finally hug my art!

Professorial Colleagues :
Man, people who work together hate each other but if pressed from outside also pretend they like each other. This tends to work as a disadvantage as a student because you are constantly being lied to about the integrity of your program and they may, oh, lets say, in fight their way out of you getting properly credited wasting both your time and money.

But , sometimes when the moment is right you can call them out on it and they call their colleagues work bad and question their choices as a human being. Call out your professors on their friendships. They are petty petty people...just like us. Yardies:
I read/watch/listen to enough British things to love the concept of Yardies and Jamaican drug lords overall so, I was both surprised and overjoyed to be waiting on a corner of Hastings for a bus at 2:30 am and to hear a cajoling "Hey Crackaholics! Who wants some Crack?" come from the usual hoody wearing crack dealer but...BUT this time in a Jamaican accent.
I didn't want to jump the gun and assume my dream had come true but soon enough another one with a lit stem came around and then a girl too offering packages to the more together people.
I was not only pleased at my powers of looking in one direction and listening in another (hooray Vancouver!) but also from my hours of "The Wire" paying off so I could figure out their general roles at least in this street level stuff.
AND THEN...the icing on the cake: Two of them do their laundry at my laundromat. Organized crime still works folks. You can still sling crack on a downtown corner one night and be washing your undies in the suburbs by morn'.
Man. I get excited over horrible things.
And...maybe someday...god willing...I'll get shot for knowing too much.

hopefully this week is a little more exciting.

CAM