At long last, your scribe, after an extended absence from the pages of this electronic memoir, which he would be greatly pleased to attribute to something fascinating and romantic–such as an expedition by airship to chart the legendary lost continent of Atlantis, followed perhaps by a convalescence at a Tuscan villa to recover from months of endless vistas of sea and sky and Professor Arronax leaning out of windows trying to spot the precise bit of water the Nautilus once passed under and periodically shouting “There! Right there! Don’t you see it?”–but the blame for which, in all honesty, can only be laid before his own recalcitrance as a regular correspondent . . . in short, your scribe once again has something to report.
Recently, as the heading of this journal entry might suggest, I attended a Meeting of Some Import. For those who are familiar with my current academic circumstances, the venue of this meeting–the Semitic Museum at Harvard University–will give a fairly strong clue as to the agenda. Indeed, it was a rare opportunity to escape my exile in, as Coleridge described it, this “strange place . . . where Time and weary Space / Fettered from flight, with night-mare sense of fleeing, / Strive for their last crepuscular half-being.” So it was that, with a sense of boundless optimism matched only by a case of the jitters roughly the size and shape of the RMS Titanic, I set off for the far horizon.
Continue reading »
It occurred to me recently that, though I have frequently spoken of this university and its various denizens (though perhaps not in these electronic pages), I have never provided my friends or family with an accurate picture of the place. So a couple of days ago, I took my camera and toured the campus (or the Collective — a sobriquet with which I honored it after hearing the easily-prompted chanting of the drones, in which one group shouts, “We are,” and all those within earshot are expected to bellow back, “Penn State”). It wasn’t an exhaustive tour. I missed major venues of sight-seeing like the vast tarmac fields of the student parking area and the arena of gladiatorial combat. I also skipped the innards of the food-processing units (I fear the effects of that many fast-food production vats in an enclosed space), and other tourist hot-spots like the Creamery (yes, purchasing ice cream made by students of advanced cow-bothering is a tourist attraction here) and the gift shop.
Continue reading »
This apartment-hunting business is a bit trickier than I expected.
I’ve just returned from my second trip to the Far North in search of a comfortable garret in which to stow self and possessions whilst studying at the U of T. The result was much the same as last time: nothing. Twelve-month leases and the high cost of living in a major city are the causes of my current mood of doom, gloom, defeat, and despair. If I could do away with either one of those, I’d be just fine — all set to pack up the wagons, load the airship, and begin carting my worldly goods across the northern border.
Continue reading »
One week ago, I departed upon what I was confident would be a swift and successful search of the Far Northern city of Toronto, the end result of which would be a cozy attic garret in which to ensconce myself for the duration of my studies at the University of said Far Northern city. This confidence, I regret to report, was misplaced.
I was unable to travel via airship, as I had hoped to do. Dratted zoning ordinances. Instead, I was forced to press the Thothmobile into service for an overland journey. I’m happy to say that it performed admirably well; so well, in fact, that I believe it has finally earned a name. We were able to get better acquainted than during the brief jaunts about town to which we had been accustomed, and I find that I rather like the old beast. It rather reminds me of a large, affable, even-tempered dog; years of faithful service given, with only the occasional groan, rattle, or refusal to start of a morning. I shall call him Bernard.
Continue reading »
A few days ago (Saturday the 3rd to be precise), I made a brief and enjoyable excursion to the Piper Aviation Museum in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. The purpose was twofold: I wanted to test my GPS gadget, and when the museum popped up on the list of nearby attractions, it seemed a likely target. There’s a bit of family history with the good old Piper J-3 Cub, after all, and it remains one of my favorite aircraft. So I plugged the satnav into the not-a-cigarette-lighter, fired up the Thothmobile, and, guided by the dulcet tones of a vocoder-generated British accent, I was off!
Continue reading »
