POLYGLOT!

1) A book that changed my life: That's a tough question. All books to some degree have changed my life; they all leave a kind of adjustment behind...even if they're not directly recalled, don't they?
A book that changed my life...well.
I going to name a book that changed my life not so much for the content (though it's a great story) but more for the forward and for the fact that if it hadn't been written and I hadn't read it, an intrinsic and valued part of my life would possibly still be lost to time and distance.
So.
The 212 pages of The Tattooed Wolf by Ms. K. Bannerman gets to hold that title.

2) A book I've read more than once: "The Rebel Angels". Robertson Davies. I believe I've raved about it before!

3) A book I'd take to a desert island: Can't I just take my library card? Damn! Another tough question. I can't answer it. Not possible that one single book could suffice. (Though a book about survival on a desert island might come in handy, no?)

4) A book that made me laugh: "Monty Python's Flying Circus: Just the Words". (Nudge nudge, wink wink!)

5) A book that made me cry: See answer to question 1.

6) A book I wish I had written: I think any of the books by Robertson Davies would have pleased me to have written. Or maybe Carol Shields? Of course books by Carl Sagan and Joseph Campbell all could stand in that spot, too.

7) A book that should never have been written: They're out there, but fortunately I've erased them from memory so I don't have titles to supply!

8) A book I'm currently reading: "Salt: A World History" by Mark Kurlansky. I've experienced some mocking for this title, believe you me!

"You're reading a book about WHAT!?! Salt!!? Oh.My.God. Are you serious?

Mind, I've also been ridiculed for using the phrase "I'll keep you abreast of the situation."

I work with cretins, what can I say.

In fact, just yesterday I said something about being obtuse and this reply followed.

"Obtuse? Why do you have to use words like that? I guess I'm just not as smart as you Tai. Oh, wait. I am as smart, I just don't have to use big words to prove it."

I was, to say the least, stung.

"But I REALLY speak like that." I protested. "In fact, all my friends do as well. I can't help it!"
I spoke my defense to uncaring ears.
Sigh.
Good thing I didn't trot out my current favorite word, 'polyglot'.
That would have REALLY annoyed her.

But I digress....
Back to the books!

9) A book I'm planning to read: As many as I can. I figure I've got at least another 50 or 60 years.
I'll just have to plan my time carefully!



*Thanks Dagoth, I enjoyed this quite a bit!

Blogger come back...?

More like deadbeat blogger!

What do they call an old, unused blog?
A 'cobweblog'.

HA!

(groan, yes I realize that was awful and I beg your indulgences. What with this betablog thing they've set up I barely figured out how to get to this one!)

So.

How you doin'?






p.s. a wee picture of my lil' cat Attessa to amuse and entertain

I'm on my way to a blogging comeback...

...but until then the bubbles will have to suffice.
Oh. Right.
There were bubbles AND my mom as the 'White Queen' in a life sized game of chess.

And I found another one of these signs:
It won't be long...I'll be back.

"The Shakespeare Incident."

I want to share with you an amusing episode from the other night (now referred to as "The Shakespeare Incident").
Twas the night before I went to see the Shakespeare play "Midsummer Nights Dream" at Vancouver's "Bard on the Beach Festival" (for which I should include a link instead of being lazy, but alas, I'm expected for dinner shortly and so am pressed for time.)

Spider and her dear husband were visiting that evening, in preparation for said event, and we were all fast asleep in my wee apartment.

Suddenly, in the dark hours before summer's dawn, a voice rang out across the alley, "You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.
Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners?"

"Hey," I started, "That's Hamlet!"

More sonorous quotes, more passages from Hamlet...something about balconies.
But it was the rocks that had Spider leaping to her feet in consternation.

Check out Spider's account. She made me laugh out loud!


(Also? I'm on HOLIDAY! Thus the questionable posting output. I'll be back sometime next week!)

Learning new things.

Early the other morning I believe I found one of the most stunning trees I think I've ever seen.

Oh! And I've seen some truly beautiful trees, I must mention that...there once was a Maple tree in a gently sloping field that I will never forget.
Remember 'Pol? Remember it's limbs that we drowsed in?
And the cows that followed us, hoping for dinner?

Anway.
I digress.

My friend and I happened upon a truly remarkable tree in the Point Grey area of Vancouver last weekend.
We were wandering about, admiring the stately old homes and August full-blown gardens when the most stunning of trees rustled softly over us.

Looking up through the green-glowing sunlight we stopped dead.

A white gray trunk 3 people around full with long delicate branches stood over us, filtering the morning light in a patched spectacle on the pavement where we stood.

Walking across the street to admire it from a distance, we murmured as if on holy ground, "I wonder what kind of tree it is...it's spectacular."
"It must be very old to have grown to that size. I wonder it's age."

As if the tree had sent a messenger to answer us, a non-descript middle aged man on a bicycle rode slowly near, then stopped by us.

Almost unbidden he said, "That's an American Beech Tree. The neighbourhood was established in 1912 and it's thought that that is an original planting."

And just as slowly, our thanks echoing after him, he rode on.
Of course, when I turned to look to see where he had gone, he had vanished.


I love learning new things.

I learned a marvelous tree I love lives at Dunbar and 1st, and that people sometimes still stop to chat with strangers.

Eureka!

It's possible that the entire free world is already acquainted with what I'm about to rave on about, but nonetheless. Here I go.

I have just discovered the very best FREE music site known to (wo)mankind.

At the risk of having all of you dear people raise an concerned eyebrow at me and quietly think to yourselves..."Um, yes dear. And here in North America we also have wonderous inventions called "com-pew-turs" and "in-tur-nets"", damn it. I'm willing to take that chance.

This site is easily navigable and fun. *
It has music on it that I listen to...this is an important requirement, certainly!
(Django Reinhardt is always a difficult one to find and they have it! Lots of it!)

And thus far, it doesn't seem to be the virus distribution site that other 'free music sharing' thing was.
Honestly, that was SO 3 years ago. I can't even remember what it was called! 'Sleeping' something? 'Ster' whatwasit?
Anyway!
This is better. Far, far better.

Oh, and for us Canadians?
Here's a little secret.
When they ask you to create an account (it's free) they'll require you to use an American postal code.
I've heard it rumoured that 12345 works wonders.
Mind...it's just a rumour.
~ahem~






*I must admit here and now that I suffer from a little bit of paranoia.

I worry that this site is just a cleverly disguised gambit to suck all the personal information out of my computer and thereby cleverly obtain a way to possess my soul. (Which, frankly, I'd be more concerned about if I hadn't lost it at a pool game years ago.)

Yet I soldier on.
Spreading the word.

I'm listening to the wonderous music RIGHT NOW.
All hail the amazing music site.
Let us bow down.

AND, a tremendous amount of thanks to M. Viking for bringing this to my attention.
Cheers!

I hate to sound like a nag but...

Be careful out there!

There were two occasions over this weekend where motorcyclists almost hit me, and neither my mom or I were impressed.

The first one involved a motorcycle trying to run a red light in front of me, almost causing a major accident (I don't think his girlfriend on the back was too impressed with him either).

The other incident involved a motorcyclist attempting to change lanes into my car!

C'mon guys!

As the driver of an enclosed vehicle I know to look out for you guys on two wheels (believe me, having also driven a motorcycle I know how vital that is) BUT you have to take care of yourself as well!

There's only so much I can do when you dart out in front of me or try to merge yourself into my car.

So don't do it...okay???

I forgot to mention the Scrabble!

This weekend was a veritable whirlwind of activity.

Suffice to say that my mom and I had the most marvelous of times.
We visited Granville Island where we 'admired' some Native carved heads and we picked up the makings for dinner which I cooked for mom later on Saturday.

Sunday we tore around Vancouver; we did go to the Powell Street Festival, but there was an odd juxtapostion between the people doing the celebrating and the indigent peoples sleeping around the outskirts of Oppenheimer Park.
My mom and I both felt uncomfortable; it rather felt like we were disturbing the people that called that plot of land home just so we could peruse expensive jewelry and eat food they couldn't afford so we left.

Instead we went to historical Steveston, where we watched a little play about the exploitation of immigrant workers at the turn of the century and admired the flowery doorsteps some of the business had put together.

We then explored the beautiful Buddhist Temple in Richmond.
So unused to anything more surprising than a deer by the side of the road, I suppose it's easy to understand that my mother gasped and stumbled when we rounded a corner to see a massive 30 foot gold statue of a many armed god/dess confronting her.

She recovered quickly, and obviously enjoyed the peaceful calm of the temple.

Monday we were able to get up early enough to grab a quick bagel breakfast from Tim Horton's and raced to Stanley Park to be there before the hordes of bus riding tourists hit the calm sea wall.
Ah, breakfast in the fresh air before our jaunt.

We walked a lot...after a 2 hour stroll around the sea wall, the next stop was lunch at the serene Van Dusen Gardens and a leisurely walk through the gardens.

Then off to the bus for the long ride home my momma went; happy, tired and stuffed full of memories.

I really did forget to mention the Scrabble!
My mom loves Scrabble so we bought ourselves a board and had a few games each evening after dark fell...I kept catching her giving me extra points by 'accident' so the truth of who REALLY won the games is forever lost.
But that's what mom's are for, right?

Visitations!

Well, lucky lucky!
My momma's coming to spend time with lil' ol' me in the 'big city'.

I'm very excited.

I really enjoy spending time with my mom, and it's so much fun when she comes over to Vancouver from the small town she lives in.
Having her here kind of allows me to see Vancouver with fresh eyes.

This weekend is a loooong weekend; Monday the 7th is a holiday in British Columbia and there are PLENTY of things to do in Vancouver over the next 3 days.

The Gay Pride Parade takes place on Sunday, as well as the Japanese-Canadian festival ("Powell Street Festival").
White Rock is having a torchlight parade too!
Not to mention the regular wonderful stuff in Vancouver.
The Stanley Park sea-wall, Granville Island, Steveston Village and on and on.

The only problem with my mom coming over to visit will be what, of all the fun things to choose from, we should do!

Even if we don't partake in any of those options, and just sit around and chat it'll be a great visit.

We have fun together...she doesn't come over often enough!

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend no matter what they do!

And speaking of reading...

My pirate name is:

Captain Mary Read

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Thanks for sharing, Dagoth!
This pirate name couldn't please me more!

I've a confession to make.

I am a re-reader.

Yes. It's true.
Also? I don't regret it for a second.

I have hundreds of books and I think it's safe to say that I've read all of them at least twice, some even more than that.
This fact seems to confound people.
"You re-read them? All of them?" They ask, hardly able to contain their surprise.
"All the ones on my bookshelves I've read at least twice." I nod.
"Why?"
Of course they have to ask. Why?
I strive to be clear, "Because each of these books have several stories to tell. Each book can hold layers of meaning that a single read doesn't always reveal."
"Oh. I usually give all my Danielle Steele away when I'm done with them."
"Yes. I can see that."

So. Here's a little bit of what I re-read.

There are books I read at least once a year, books I keep around for reference, and books that I re-read just because they are so beautifully written that it would break my heart to be rid of them.

Books I read at least once a year:
Robertson Davies - The Cornish Trilogy ("Rebel Angels" is my favorite)
Irving Stone - "The Agony and the Ecstasy"

Books I keep around for reference:
Mark Kurlansky - "Salt: A World History"
Bill Bryson - "The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got That Way"
Simon Winchester - "The Professor and the Madman" (which I've just noticed seems to be missing off my shelf...I wonder whom I lent it to!)

Books too beautiful/interesting/entertaining to get rid of:
Timothy Findlay - "Pilgrim"
Carol Shields - most all of her works I admire greatly
Alice Munro - same as above AND she resides in Comox, which can't help but endear her
Anthony Bourdain - "Kitchen Confidential"
A. S. Byatt - "Possession"

There are SO many more though!
For instance, I really enjoy many of Anne Tyler's books; they aren't particularly deep, but they hold something that I enjoy (think Geena Davis and Kathleen Turner in "The Accidental Tourist").

I'm starting to find history interesting as well (especially the racy bits about the courtesans!).
And there are some books about physics and quantum mechanics (like those by Richard Feynman) that I feel compelled to read again and again.
(Yeah...I know, 'quantum mechanics'. I do recommend Feynman though. His love of science and of his 'job' is truly contagious. Carl Sagan falls neatly into that category, as does Joseph Campbell.)

I find as I grow older, books that captured my attention for one reason or another develop a different flavour as the years pass.

That my world changes, and thus the fact that my views change certainly factor into this...but a well-written book can be returned to (should be returned to!) over and over; always with something new to exclaim over.
Robertson Davies is a great example of an author who is able to write one story containing a multitude of layers.

I first introduced myself to "The Rebel Angels" * when I was about 12 or so.
The story was fascinating...a defrocked monk, a gypsy family and a secret affair between a teacher and his student.
What wasn't there for a 12 year old to enjoy?
But as the years went by I saw more; I saw sexual relationships beyond the 'sex'; observations about religion that my young eyes couldn't comprehend, and a view on history that my 12 year old self didn't even see the first time 'round.

So.
I guess Robertson Davies is the reason I re-read.

Books that don't stand the test of time, that don't deliver that depth or an exciting revelation I don't hold onto for very long.

But the ones that spark that fire?
They keep burning and burning; there's no end to the fuel they add. **



And p.s.
That first picture in the top right hand corner? Not me!
Also?
Despite the fact that laryngitis has turned into a stuffed up nose?
I can tell.
Some one nearby has pissed off a skunk.
It's rage is drifting over my balcony and into my living room.
You know...if I have to have a stuffy nose, couldn't it be good for something!?!







*Thanks for all those books laid out at my finger tips, Dad.
I don't always scrub my hands before I read 'em, but I sure do love 'em.

** NO! I don't mean in the literal sense! My apartment gets cold in the winter, but not THAT cold!

Laryngitis: It's cause and effect.

"WHAT YOU SHOULD KNOW: Laryngitis (LAIR-in-JIE-tis) is an irritation and swelling of the voice box and the area around it. It may cause your voice to change, or you may lose your voice entirely for a short while. The problem is most common in late fall, winter, or early spring. With or without treatment, you should be well in 7 to 14 days. "

That information is helpful (sort of) but there is one thing that it DOESN'T explain.

Why the HELL does everyone think it's so damn funny??

All day long people were laughing and whispering at me; pointing at their throats and silently ridiculing me and my sore throat.

The other intriguing reaction? Some would start speaking softly to me in broken sentences as if I was some kind of foreign deaf person who suddenly couldn't understand regularly spoken English.

Oh.
And some of them even threw in some sign language for good measure.

So what is it about laryngitis that turns everyone else into annoying mockers?

humph.

What a skunk.

Once, many years ago I lived in a tiny little hamlet surrounded by forested lands and glacier fed lakes.
Those lands held many many wonderful creatures...very few of which I ever saw.

There were deer, wolves, elk and cougars sharing (uncomfortably perhaps) the sprawl of wild wood.
Raccoons and their cousin the black bear proliferated in the local dump.
Otters and muskrats swam in the rivers and ocean...seals of all types lounged and sunbathed.

I saw most of them, but rarely.

To glimpse a bear was a fine treat, and you never saw a cougar unless they were spotted running amok at the Empress Hotel in Victoria in '92. (I looked high and low for the news story, but couldn't find it anywhere!)

No sir, animals knew their place on the Island and they stayed there.

Not in Vancouver though.
I remember the first time a saw a coyote casually strolling out of a mall parking lot. I just about choked on my own tongue in my excitement.

And oh, the skunks.

I had never seen a skunk before.
To me they were a creature more rare than the elusive wolf; even the wolf you could occasionally hear calling in the dark distance.

Until I moved to Vancouver.

Suddenly, skunks were ubiquitous.
They were every where!
And if they weren't actually around their odor certainly was.

I've seen countless squished skunks, skunk families, skunks bustling about in vacant lots, and one very angry skunk standing on his/her front paws insulted by a passing bicyclist.

I confess that I rather like watching them chundle about in their little busy body way.
They look so inoffensive and mild mannered.

Till you get too close.

I can smell angry skunks all over my neighborhood; their rage is carried on the drifting breeze and straight into my bedroom.

Some people just haven't figured out how co-exist with them.
Okay, you drive a 4000lb car, but guess what?

Skunks should ALWAYS get the right of way.

Are you SURE I can quote you on that?

(I found this at whyihatemyhusband.com but the link wouldn't work. Nonetheless...credit where credit is due!)

Sure you read it...but did you get it?

I saw a group of people standing around at the back of my car as I returned to it after lunch.
They appeared to be mildly confused by my bumper.

I can only surmise that they had noticed my bumper sticker and either found it thought provoking, or plain ol' puzzling.

"You're of the edge of the map, mate."

"Here, there be monsters."

Having just seen the "Dead Man's Chest" but mere moments ago, I feel obligated to write a word or two about it. *

(Now don't look to me to provide an in depth movie write up here.
It was fluff...you couldn't possibly do anything of import with it.)

But first let me say that I realize that I'm WAAY behind in my movie viewing; this movie was SO 2 weeks ago, but in my defense? I do that on purpose.

I don't like the crush of all the I-must-be-the-first-person-ever-to-see-this-movie types. I want to have a good seat, far from the teenage boys and tittering schoolgirls.
I don't want to sit with my nose pressed against the screen, or at an angle that chiropractors cringe at the thought of.

In short, I like to actually SEE the movie I'm going too. Anything else is irritating.

But I digress.

As far as fun action movie's go, it was okay.

Lots of very interesting special effects and a make-up artists dream (or nightmare depending on how you look at it) come true.
Plot holes large enough to keep everyone talking and some of us wondering (I must confess, I'm referring to myself here) if they missed something vital as the tale unfolded.

I feel safe divulging all the bits, as I suspect everyone who wants to see this movie already has.

The Kraken was well done...and I very much enjoyed the Dutchman's ship as it submerged and unsubmerged (what's the proper term for a large, crustacean encrusted galleon rising up out of the surf anyway?)

But my very favorite part?
The part that made me really glad I had spent $12 dollars (and this is Canadian dollars, mind) and 1 hour and 35 minutes of my time?

My favorite part was the last 4 minutes.

My favorite part of the entire movie was watching Captain Barbossa step agonizingly slowly down the stairs (set up so everyone would think it was Jack of course, saved from the Kraken by the miracle of two sea turtles) eating his beloved and long cherished apple.

I mean, OF COURSE J. Depp was fun to watch scarper about; though in my mind the only role O. Bloom has done justice to (so far) was Legolas.

It is my firm belief that Geoffrey Rush stole the first "Pirate's".
"I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request."
"Means 'no'."

And in the last 4 minutes...I do believe he stole this one too.
"Now tell me, what's become of my ship?"

I hope that the very obviously set up third "Pirate's" movie casts him in every single scene.

ok, ok...I have a small Geoffrey Rush crush. There.
I said it.

Happy now?






*Also, I may or may not have mentioned the fact that since the tender age of 8 I've wanted to be a pirate.
Quite seriously in fact.
My friends are capable (and probably more than willing) to vouch for that.
Not sure if it's relevant, but let's just consider it another little bit of Tai trivia...or should that be 'it's my realitai'?

(I mean, good HEAVENS! My blog pic is me with a sword on my head under a jolly roger bandana! Oh! Dead give away!!)

Making music.

I can hear the woman next door practicing on her violin.
Mostly it's just simple notes and scales in a scratchy and uncertain hand, but for some reason I just love to listen to her.

It doesn't matter that it's not concertos soaring to the heavens, or grief-stricken gypsy wails.
That she is putting bow to string is all that matters.

And on that note, for several months now I've had an earnest and genuine yearning to pick up the clarinet again.
After all these years, I suddenly want to play the instrument that dogged my childhood.

Perhaps it's because I've grown older; I've come to realize how versatile the clarinet really is.

The self proclaimed "very difficult man" Artie Shaw is a wonderful example of a clarinets use in the jazz world, but the classical world has it's own repertoire of famous music and equally famous musicians.

Maybe it's just because I remember some of the warm, full sounds that I could elicit from the clarinet that call me back.
Or perhaps it seemed like speaking a different, more melodic language that encourages me.

At any rate, I hope my neighbours will feel as kindly encouraging towards my attempts at study as I do towards the neighbour with the violin.

(That is...when I finally get around to finding a clarinet! They seem rather elusive and expensive at the moment!)

Summer.

Summer has arrived at last in Vancouver.
Shimmering oases of water gleam on the black pavement, and condensation pools at the base of glasses holding a cold liquid heaven.

I love summer.

That idea that murders and crimes of passion increase in the summer astounds me.
Where does one get the energy for such an activity as murder?
How can rage ignite when weekend afternoons seem to slide on and on in an endless sleepy nod?

Drowsing in the slow dripping lassitude of summer's intensity seems to me to encourage the opposite of intense emotion...instead, a carefully composed languor seems more to suit.

Cool beverage within easy grasp, a gentle breeze stirring the hairs on the back of the neck, and a softly swaying hammock in the dappled shade.

How does rage fit in amongst the wafting scent of flowers in full bloom and dragonflies darting with aimless abandon?

I suppose that not everyone shares my adoration of the voluptuousness of summer, but I wish they could.
There might be less crime.

I thought there had been a death!

My last questionable post reflected the fact that I thought that 'delusionoftai' had bit the proverbial big one; had gone to the great 'bloggerbeyond'.

It's not true?

"Delusion of Tai" lives on!?!
I thought that almost two years of ideas and thoughts had suddenly vanished.
I thought that the last two years of this venture had ended as a sad example of literary seppuku.

Well, butter my butt and call me biscuit!

If you were worried, panic not.
I haven't gone any further than the 'great blogger incident' has pushed me!



*And thanks to dear Jeffye for helping me FINALLY get a picture up, and apologies to hoping4more for accidently deleting one of her comments.

kjghiguyg