Currently in Earphones: "Never Drink 'Em Dry (Johnny Tarr's Funeral)" by Gaelic Storm
Drew McWeeny (aka Moriarty) from AICN wrote a very smart review about the recent James Bond installment, and I particularly appreciate this one gripe/praise he has concerning the book vs. the movie...
"My biggest problem is one that I’ve had since the script stage: the change from baccarat to poker. It’s literally pointless. The poker in the film doesn’t matter, and having knowledge of the game doesn’t matter. At all. Not even a little bit. Because card games in movies are inherently boring. You know there is no chance involved because it is scripted. The cards are going to be dealt according to drama, not chance. The reason that baccarat simply works better is because it’s so uncommon. No one knows how to play baccarat. Le Chiffre has a fetish for the game because of its obscurity. And when MI6 decides to send someone in to play across from Le Chiffre, there’s really only one guy inside the agency that knows the game well enough to compete. You think it matters what cards turn over on the table between those two guys? No. What matters is what happens between them, and the film gets it right. Campbell directs the poker the best way he possibly can, by making it inconsequential. He’s got the dealer to explain every hand, so you don’t have to know anything about the game, and he directs everything so it’s about the way Bond and Le Chiffre play off each other. It’s just Mads Mikkelsen and Daniel Craig, every gesture loaded with meaning. No invisible cars, no creepy dudes shooting lightning out of their fingers, no CGI or snowboarding. Just two men, both desperate to accomplish something, depending on this civilized warfare across a card table."
- "Moriarty", Link
Amen!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Gaelic Storm!!!
Currently in Earphones: Bring Yer Wellies by Gaelic Storm
The song "Kelly's Wellies" by the above mentioned group always makes me smile...
When I was a young 'un, I knew a lad from Ballybunyon
He hadn't got a single penny to his name, you might say,
He had a raggedy coat, and like two rubber boats
He kept his Wellington Boots on from December until May.
(Chorus:)
It was Kevin Kelly, with his chopped off Wellies
In the middle of the Summertime, he was lookin' fine!
His pants had holes in the knees, but he was proud as you please
With his old Wellies...he'd keep strollin' along!
As we got older, and slyer and bolder
And the girls we had our eyes on, they got older as well.
With paint on their faces, and curves in nice places!
Well we were dressed to impress them and we thought that we were swell!
Well our duds were in fashion to kindle the passion
And there was Kevin on the dance floor looking anything but neat.
He was tryin' to flirt, in his hand-me-down shirt,
With the same old Wellies on his two big feet!
(Chorus)
Well we teased him and we mocked him, but sure that never shocked him,
He painted on some laces and cut them down to look like shoes.
He was poor but he had style, he made everybody smile
He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies....
Like he had nuthin' to lose!
The next time we found him, well the girls were all around him
He was busten' out the moves, he was as happy as can be!
One of the girls came near, and whipsered in my ear,
"Only boys who wear their Wellies have a chance wit' me!"
(Chorus x2)
You know it's a fun song when the lead singer starts giggling through the last line of the chorus!
Enough, More Later.
- James
The song "Kelly's Wellies" by the above mentioned group always makes me smile...
When I was a young 'un, I knew a lad from Ballybunyon
He hadn't got a single penny to his name, you might say,
He had a raggedy coat, and like two rubber boats
He kept his Wellington Boots on from December until May.
(Chorus:)
It was Kevin Kelly, with his chopped off Wellies
In the middle of the Summertime, he was lookin' fine!
His pants had holes in the knees, but he was proud as you please
With his old Wellies...he'd keep strollin' along!
As we got older, and slyer and bolder
And the girls we had our eyes on, they got older as well.
With paint on their faces, and curves in nice places!
Well we were dressed to impress them and we thought that we were swell!
Well our duds were in fashion to kindle the passion
And there was Kevin on the dance floor looking anything but neat.
He was tryin' to flirt, in his hand-me-down shirt,
With the same old Wellies on his two big feet!
(Chorus)
Well we teased him and we mocked him, but sure that never shocked him,
He painted on some laces and cut them down to look like shoes.
He was poor but he had style, he made everybody smile
He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies, He wore his ol' wellies....
Like he had nuthin' to lose!
The next time we found him, well the girls were all around him
He was busten' out the moves, he was as happy as can be!
One of the girls came near, and whipsered in my ear,
"Only boys who wear their Wellies have a chance wit' me!"
(Chorus x2)
You know it's a fun song when the lead singer starts giggling through the last line of the chorus!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Saturday, January 27, 2007
A Story of Swords, Part 6
Currently in Earphones: Whiskey Supper by The Wicked Tinkers
Sorry, I lied last post. I was too wiped by the end of Thursday to post the next installment of my short story. Then Friday in all of it's tough glory came around. Here's how it went down...
On Wednesday I realized for the first time that the concert conflicted with my work schedule, seeing that I had to play at noon and usually work from 9am-1pm. No big deal, I think, I'll make up the extra hours the next day. The only problem was that my only free hours were between classes during my only break, so my Friday schedule looked a little something like this:
9am - 10am - Music 10 (with listening quiz)
10am - 11am - Classics 1
11am - 1pm - Work
1pm - 2pm - Latin 110N: Ovid
2pm - 3pm - Cicero
Yup, on campus for six hours straight and no sign of a break. I managed to snag a few snacks during work, but I was laggin' pretty bad by the time I got out of Cicero. I spent the next hour at home going "God! Why am I so depressed? And why am I so tired?" Of course, when I finally lurched into the kitchen for a sandwich and got something in my stomach, I felt so much better.
As for this weekend, I'm going to drag myself to the library for some initial research on my Classics 190 paper, then study for two midterms, one in the previously mentioned and one in Classics 1. Thankfully I'm off the hook for Ovid, seeing that I translated twice as much as we went over on Friday: luckily our Prof assigned up to the line where I originally stopped for Monday, so I can coast for the time being.
And now, without much further ado, the next chapter of my Story of Swords. Despite the fact that I initially skipped writing the chapter before this because I wanted to write this one so bad, I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it as it currently stands, even after some initial editing. I will be going over the chapters again later on, but here it is for the time being.
(Oh, and for those of you wondering what the hell Helmrune is talking about when he first speaks in this chapter, I've begun to draft a Chapter 3.5 that delves more into some interaction between him and Touchstone. It'll all make sense in the end, but for now, enjoy the swordplay!)
Chapter 6: Steel and Sweat
The small figure that strode toward Touchstone gradually resolved itself into the figure of Helmrune, the black-hilt of Coinspinner prominent on his hip. Touchstone took a deep breath and released it, loosening Doomgiver and readying himself for what was to come.
The young Lord stopped a few paces from Touchstone and regarded him coldly. “You have a habit of making things difficult, Master Fool. You tell me one thing, and then do another. You make life difficult for Esther. I wonder if it not be better that you leave.”
“I think you’ll find that these complications are more than just my influence, friend,” Touchstone replied, “Besides, there is more to this world than what is within the walls of the Keep.”
Bitterness crept into Helmrune’s voice, “And you would be the one to turn me out? To point me outwards under the guise of wise advice, to turn me away from something I finally found that matters to me?”
“This is not the end of your life, nor should you think it so,” said Touchstone, struggling to find words to appease the young Lord, “Perhaps it would be better to leave things be here, perhaps it would be beneficial to start anew, to find something less complicated.”
“Spare me your sermonizing!” Helmrune cried, ripping Coinspinner out of its scabbard. The meteoric steel rang harshly in tune with his shout. “Too long have I stood silent, fearful of failing. Too long have I let good things pass me by; I will not simply stand and watch while happiness is taken from me again!”
Touchstone grimly drew Doomgiver, the cold sound of the blade sounding an uncomfortable dissonance with the fading ringing of Coinspinner. His anger at the young Lord was paralleled with a great swell of pity, aroused by Helmrune’s pained speech that had so often echoed through Touchstone’s own head.
With that feeling of fellowship strong in his mind, the young Fool didn’t believe the words that came through his mouth. He felt a similar righteous outrage at the doctrine of near-endless patience he was wont to believe in as the young Lord as he said, “We still have time to discover new things. Hastiness can only bring conflict.”
“Fortune favors the brave, my lord,” growled Helmrune, coiling himself to strike, “And I no longer fear to be brave with luck on my side. Luck that your sniveling ‘Justice’ would do well to note!” And with that, the young Lord sprang at Touchstone, Coinspinner at the ready. The last thing Touchstone remembered before Doomgiver cleared his mind for the oncoming fight was that he rather agreed with his opponent, though steel would have to be tested before words could once again be of use.
The Sword of Chance came at him in a simple, but savage, thrust, which he parried to his outside. Touchstone’s mind was ready for the next action, when the young Lord’s momentum accidentally carried him further forward, Coinspinner’s point angling toward his arm. Before he could react, Doomgiver acted for him, extending the parry further outward while the offending point slid harmlessly past Touchstone’s body. Both men, stunned by the swords influence, leaped back out of range. Each regarded the other for a moment, and Touchstone knew that the young Lord, immediately charging at him again, understood The Sword of Chance’s power. If he faltered, even for a moment, the advantage would leave him. In order to have a chance of winning against such a force as Doomgiver, he would need to press his luck.
Helmrune charged again, Coinspinner extended in the same savage thrust. Touchstone knew it to be something more as the point rushed toward his body, and he made as if to parry it in the same manner as before. As he had thought, Helmrune disengaged, circling the tip of Coinspinner around the oncoming edge of Doomgiver, and into the unprotected hole above his moving arm, straight at his chest. Almost as a reflexive afterthought, Touchstone retreated back a step, moving in time with Helmrune’s blade and keeping it a few inches from his chest, simultaneously moving his hand back across his body. Touchstone’s training made him fast, but not fast enough to counter the luck of the Sword of Chance. As the two swordsman moved as one, the young Fool backwards and the young Lord forwards, the tip of Coinspinner grazed Touchstone’s upper arm as he moved his opponent’s blade to his right, away from further harm.
Grimacing, Touchstone planted his feet, preparing for the impact of Helmrune’s charge. Glaring at his opponent, he snapped the wrist of is sword hand down into a more comfortable pronated parry, shoving Coinspinner aside and firmly away from him. Using his momentum as before, the young Lord barreled into the young Fool, knocking his opponent onto his rear despite his good footing. Helmrune had remained standing, and Touchstone watched in horror as he began to lift Coinspinner for a final blow.
However, as the young Lord began to heft his sword into the air, he let out a cry of pain and dropped the point to the ground. At first amazed, but then with growing understanding, Touchstone saw blood bloom on the same part of Helmrune’s arm as his, where Coinspinner had made a lucky cut earlier. Looking down at his own arm, the young Fool saw only rosy flesh, and no cut or scar marred the place where Coinspinner had passed earlier. Doomgiver had delivered justice, as it was wont to.
More out of reflexes than anything else, Touchstone sprang to his feet and lunged, angling the point of Doomgiver low, toward Helmrune’s leg. The young Lord, also reflexively, retreated back a step and parried from the draw, his hand and arm at chest level and his sword pointing straight down, almost locking the young Fool’s blade out. At the last moment, Touchstone circled his sword underneath Helmrune’s defense and angled his blade upward, avoiding the defending sword and catching the young Lord’s left arm with Doomgiver’s point.
They both leapt backwards and paused, recovering breath. Touchstone smiled ruefully at his successful attack, only to realize that the same twisting smile was growing on Helmrune’s face. The young Fool noticed a growing pain in his left arm, and looked down to see that the same wound he had inflicted on the young Lord had appeared on his arm as well. Looking back at Helmrune, Touchstone saw that the spot on his left arm where the Sword of Justice had inflicted a wound was clear and healthy. Doomgiver truly did not discriminate, and the swords wielder realized with growing fear that there was no way to harm his opponent without harming himself. Though he could play a defensive game, he would need to work hard not to counterattack so that the Sword of Justice couldn’t work against him. And if it was blood that Helmrune wanted to quench his anger, he would not get any of Touchstone’s
Whether such a realization concerning the interaction of the sword’s power had occurred to Helmrune, Touchstone couldn’t tell, he only just had time to parry to his inside once again as Coinspinner came edge-wise at his wounded left arm. Stepping forward and moving the two blades away to lock out his opponent, Touchstone grabbed the wrist of Helmrune’s right hand to further prevent him from attacking, and Helmrune did the same to the young Fool’s sword arm.
So locked, Touchstone spoke, breathing heavily, “All is not what it seems, my friend.”
Helmrune, emboldened by Doomgiver’s impartiality and Coinspinner’s luck, laughed. “You hide behind your words as you hide behind your Sword of Power. I wonder if you were not in my position once. Did you hide then as you did now, letting what mattered to you slip away on account of your weak philosophy? Know that I will not make the same mistake.”
“Fool!” Shouted Touchstone, enraged at the young Lords biting insight and mockery, “What do you know of pain? What do you know of denying your own happiness for someone else’s?”
Each young man’s rage feeding his opponents anger, Helmrune bared his teeth and bellowed, “EVERYTHING!”
In unison, they drew back their heads, then slammed them forward, meeting forehead-to-forehead with tremendous force. Stunned, they reeled, releasing their hold on each others hands and staggering backwards.
Recovering, they shared a look that said much. There was respect and new found brotherhood as each began to grasp their similarities on a subject that meant much to them. At the same time, anger still burned for the apparent contempt that each young man had shown for the other, and relishing the refreshing rage that boiled within, they abandoned themselves to their swords and charged at each other anew.
To be continued in Chapter 7
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sorry, I lied last post. I was too wiped by the end of Thursday to post the next installment of my short story. Then Friday in all of it's tough glory came around. Here's how it went down...
On Wednesday I realized for the first time that the concert conflicted with my work schedule, seeing that I had to play at noon and usually work from 9am-1pm. No big deal, I think, I'll make up the extra hours the next day. The only problem was that my only free hours were between classes during my only break, so my Friday schedule looked a little something like this:
9am - 10am - Music 10 (with listening quiz)
10am - 11am - Classics 1
11am - 1pm - Work
1pm - 2pm - Latin 110N: Ovid
2pm - 3pm - Cicero
Yup, on campus for six hours straight and no sign of a break. I managed to snag a few snacks during work, but I was laggin' pretty bad by the time I got out of Cicero. I spent the next hour at home going "God! Why am I so depressed? And why am I so tired?" Of course, when I finally lurched into the kitchen for a sandwich and got something in my stomach, I felt so much better.
As for this weekend, I'm going to drag myself to the library for some initial research on my Classics 190 paper, then study for two midterms, one in the previously mentioned and one in Classics 1. Thankfully I'm off the hook for Ovid, seeing that I translated twice as much as we went over on Friday: luckily our Prof assigned up to the line where I originally stopped for Monday, so I can coast for the time being.
And now, without much further ado, the next chapter of my Story of Swords. Despite the fact that I initially skipped writing the chapter before this because I wanted to write this one so bad, I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it as it currently stands, even after some initial editing. I will be going over the chapters again later on, but here it is for the time being.
(Oh, and for those of you wondering what the hell Helmrune is talking about when he first speaks in this chapter, I've begun to draft a Chapter 3.5 that delves more into some interaction between him and Touchstone. It'll all make sense in the end, but for now, enjoy the swordplay!)
Chapter 6: Steel and Sweat
The small figure that strode toward Touchstone gradually resolved itself into the figure of Helmrune, the black-hilt of Coinspinner prominent on his hip. Touchstone took a deep breath and released it, loosening Doomgiver and readying himself for what was to come.
The young Lord stopped a few paces from Touchstone and regarded him coldly. “You have a habit of making things difficult, Master Fool. You tell me one thing, and then do another. You make life difficult for Esther. I wonder if it not be better that you leave.”
“I think you’ll find that these complications are more than just my influence, friend,” Touchstone replied, “Besides, there is more to this world than what is within the walls of the Keep.”
Bitterness crept into Helmrune’s voice, “And you would be the one to turn me out? To point me outwards under the guise of wise advice, to turn me away from something I finally found that matters to me?”
“This is not the end of your life, nor should you think it so,” said Touchstone, struggling to find words to appease the young Lord, “Perhaps it would be better to leave things be here, perhaps it would be beneficial to start anew, to find something less complicated.”
“Spare me your sermonizing!” Helmrune cried, ripping Coinspinner out of its scabbard. The meteoric steel rang harshly in tune with his shout. “Too long have I stood silent, fearful of failing. Too long have I let good things pass me by; I will not simply stand and watch while happiness is taken from me again!”
Touchstone grimly drew Doomgiver, the cold sound of the blade sounding an uncomfortable dissonance with the fading ringing of Coinspinner. His anger at the young Lord was paralleled with a great swell of pity, aroused by Helmrune’s pained speech that had so often echoed through Touchstone’s own head.
With that feeling of fellowship strong in his mind, the young Fool didn’t believe the words that came through his mouth. He felt a similar righteous outrage at the doctrine of near-endless patience he was wont to believe in as the young Lord as he said, “We still have time to discover new things. Hastiness can only bring conflict.”
“Fortune favors the brave, my lord,” growled Helmrune, coiling himself to strike, “And I no longer fear to be brave with luck on my side. Luck that your sniveling ‘Justice’ would do well to note!” And with that, the young Lord sprang at Touchstone, Coinspinner at the ready. The last thing Touchstone remembered before Doomgiver cleared his mind for the oncoming fight was that he rather agreed with his opponent, though steel would have to be tested before words could once again be of use.
The Sword of Chance came at him in a simple, but savage, thrust, which he parried to his outside. Touchstone’s mind was ready for the next action, when the young Lord’s momentum accidentally carried him further forward, Coinspinner’s point angling toward his arm. Before he could react, Doomgiver acted for him, extending the parry further outward while the offending point slid harmlessly past Touchstone’s body. Both men, stunned by the swords influence, leaped back out of range. Each regarded the other for a moment, and Touchstone knew that the young Lord, immediately charging at him again, understood The Sword of Chance’s power. If he faltered, even for a moment, the advantage would leave him. In order to have a chance of winning against such a force as Doomgiver, he would need to press his luck.
Helmrune charged again, Coinspinner extended in the same savage thrust. Touchstone knew it to be something more as the point rushed toward his body, and he made as if to parry it in the same manner as before. As he had thought, Helmrune disengaged, circling the tip of Coinspinner around the oncoming edge of Doomgiver, and into the unprotected hole above his moving arm, straight at his chest. Almost as a reflexive afterthought, Touchstone retreated back a step, moving in time with Helmrune’s blade and keeping it a few inches from his chest, simultaneously moving his hand back across his body. Touchstone’s training made him fast, but not fast enough to counter the luck of the Sword of Chance. As the two swordsman moved as one, the young Fool backwards and the young Lord forwards, the tip of Coinspinner grazed Touchstone’s upper arm as he moved his opponent’s blade to his right, away from further harm.
Grimacing, Touchstone planted his feet, preparing for the impact of Helmrune’s charge. Glaring at his opponent, he snapped the wrist of is sword hand down into a more comfortable pronated parry, shoving Coinspinner aside and firmly away from him. Using his momentum as before, the young Lord barreled into the young Fool, knocking his opponent onto his rear despite his good footing. Helmrune had remained standing, and Touchstone watched in horror as he began to lift Coinspinner for a final blow.
However, as the young Lord began to heft his sword into the air, he let out a cry of pain and dropped the point to the ground. At first amazed, but then with growing understanding, Touchstone saw blood bloom on the same part of Helmrune’s arm as his, where Coinspinner had made a lucky cut earlier. Looking down at his own arm, the young Fool saw only rosy flesh, and no cut or scar marred the place where Coinspinner had passed earlier. Doomgiver had delivered justice, as it was wont to.
More out of reflexes than anything else, Touchstone sprang to his feet and lunged, angling the point of Doomgiver low, toward Helmrune’s leg. The young Lord, also reflexively, retreated back a step and parried from the draw, his hand and arm at chest level and his sword pointing straight down, almost locking the young Fool’s blade out. At the last moment, Touchstone circled his sword underneath Helmrune’s defense and angled his blade upward, avoiding the defending sword and catching the young Lord’s left arm with Doomgiver’s point.
They both leapt backwards and paused, recovering breath. Touchstone smiled ruefully at his successful attack, only to realize that the same twisting smile was growing on Helmrune’s face. The young Fool noticed a growing pain in his left arm, and looked down to see that the same wound he had inflicted on the young Lord had appeared on his arm as well. Looking back at Helmrune, Touchstone saw that the spot on his left arm where the Sword of Justice had inflicted a wound was clear and healthy. Doomgiver truly did not discriminate, and the swords wielder realized with growing fear that there was no way to harm his opponent without harming himself. Though he could play a defensive game, he would need to work hard not to counterattack so that the Sword of Justice couldn’t work against him. And if it was blood that Helmrune wanted to quench his anger, he would not get any of Touchstone’s
Whether such a realization concerning the interaction of the sword’s power had occurred to Helmrune, Touchstone couldn’t tell, he only just had time to parry to his inside once again as Coinspinner came edge-wise at his wounded left arm. Stepping forward and moving the two blades away to lock out his opponent, Touchstone grabbed the wrist of Helmrune’s right hand to further prevent him from attacking, and Helmrune did the same to the young Fool’s sword arm.
So locked, Touchstone spoke, breathing heavily, “All is not what it seems, my friend.”
Helmrune, emboldened by Doomgiver’s impartiality and Coinspinner’s luck, laughed. “You hide behind your words as you hide behind your Sword of Power. I wonder if you were not in my position once. Did you hide then as you did now, letting what mattered to you slip away on account of your weak philosophy? Know that I will not make the same mistake.”
“Fool!” Shouted Touchstone, enraged at the young Lords biting insight and mockery, “What do you know of pain? What do you know of denying your own happiness for someone else’s?”
Each young man’s rage feeding his opponents anger, Helmrune bared his teeth and bellowed, “EVERYTHING!”
In unison, they drew back their heads, then slammed them forward, meeting forehead-to-forehead with tremendous force. Stunned, they reeled, releasing their hold on each others hands and staggering backwards.
Recovering, they shared a look that said much. There was respect and new found brotherhood as each began to grasp their similarities on a subject that meant much to them. At the same time, anger still burned for the apparent contempt that each young man had shown for the other, and relishing the refreshing rage that boiled within, they abandoned themselves to their swords and charged at each other anew.
To be continued in Chapter 7
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Roman Empire did what now?
Currently in Earphones: Songs from Carmina Burana (Medieval and Renaissance set), Whiskey Supper by the Wicked Tinkers
Went and saw the Wicked Tinkers and Tempest this past saturday and had a blast with Preston, Maya and family. We unfortunately had to hoof it near the end on account of how INCREDIBLY loud Tempest was (awesome music tho) and because my sister was starting to feel rather asthmatic. All in all, however, it was awesome. My parents got me a Tinkers shirt and their newest album.
Currently I'm trying to blitz through the reading for Classics 190, which essentially says that "Yeah, those guys who somewhat recently claimed that the Roman Empire 'transformed' rather than 'fell' are wrong, wrong, wrong." I'm tending to agree with him, and it makes me want to read Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
And don't ask me how this all got started, but we, the Baroque Ensemble, will be opening for the Gospel Choir of all people. Evidently Michael and Calvin (the respective leaders of each group) had wanted to do something like this for some time.
I'd write more, but I gotta get ready for that performance. I'll post the next installment of my Story of Swords later tonight.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Went and saw the Wicked Tinkers and Tempest this past saturday and had a blast with Preston, Maya and family. We unfortunately had to hoof it near the end on account of how INCREDIBLY loud Tempest was (awesome music tho) and because my sister was starting to feel rather asthmatic. All in all, however, it was awesome. My parents got me a Tinkers shirt and their newest album.
Currently I'm trying to blitz through the reading for Classics 190, which essentially says that "Yeah, those guys who somewhat recently claimed that the Roman Empire 'transformed' rather than 'fell' are wrong, wrong, wrong." I'm tending to agree with him, and it makes me want to read Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
And don't ask me how this all got started, but we, the Baroque Ensemble, will be opening for the Gospel Choir of all people. Evidently Michael and Calvin (the respective leaders of each group) had wanted to do something like this for some time.
I'd write more, but I gotta get ready for that performance. I'll post the next installment of my Story of Swords later tonight.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Random Bits and Pieces
Currently in Earphones: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Complete Recordings by Howard Shore
First off, Karaoke with the fencers was lots of fun. There were a few little snags and bumps along the way, but overall it was pretty neat. We got everyone to sing, even if it was all of us belting out songs at once. My only problem was that we had just a tad too many people, in that we couldn't satisfy every ones musical wishes in the time we had. Make no mistake, we picked songs that (hopefully) everyone knew so as to get everyone involved. But as Preston said to me, it would have been nice to see some smaller groups go up there. Two highlights were a group of guys and a group of girls singing "Phantom of the Opera" (I very much enjoyed being part of that one), and Preston finding "Dragostea din tei" (which, for some reason, was on one of the lists that was in Korean and not on the English list. The english list had Rammstein, for crying out loud!). Suffice to say, I'd love to do it again (perhaps in a smaller group). I wait with baited breath for the pictures from last night to surface, as well....
Secondly, I've noticed that whenever I'm in a conversation with more than one person. I have this habit of being overrun by the other participants. We'll be talking along, there would be a pause, and I'll begin to say something only to be talked over by someone else. I, being the guy that I am, stop and let the other person say what they want, then try again at the next pause or break. Sometimes this happens more than once in a row, and it's very strange. I really would like to understand just why this is happening. Am I horrible at reading some sort of social cue? Am I not a forceful enough presence in conversation? Is what I have to say really that boorish? Help me out here, because even though it may be a natural part of conversation to accidentally talk over each other, it seems to happen to me far more frequently than I'd like.
Thirdly, and lastly, I learned an interesting bit of information in Music 10 a few days ago. To start at the beginning of why this was so, we go to San Luis Obispo, home of my grandparents. There's a restaurant/hotel/place called The Apple Farm in northern SLO that I've gone to since I was a young lad, and they have what I would call the coziest gift shop ever. It's spread across 3 levels: more adult things on the bottom level, the middle connecting with the restaurant, and the top having the greatest little nook of children's toys and books that I ever saw. I'll always remember that nook as it was 10-15 years ago, because at that point it had all the usual wooden and plastic doodads and jimcracks that a young boy could want, and a book rack full of Berenstain Bears and Golden books. It has changed over time, but that's the way I really liked it. Small and cozy, with a bay window looking out to the creek filled with clear shelves of toys, and the final topper was that they always played Baroque music in the background, which made it feel very classy.
I remember first getting into classical music, and always having in mind the atmosphere and sound of the toy nook in the Apple farm. At first what seemed to fit perfectly was the first movement of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, but later I stumbled upon another small piece by Bach called Badinerie for flute and strings. Even later I would find out that it came from his Orchestral Suite No. 2, but suffice to say that that piece fit my memory even better, and if it were not for the malleability of memory, I would swear that I remember that very same song playing as I fooled around with wooden toy soldiers. The cap on all of this was when we were going over the selfsame movement in Music 10, and I found out that the title literally means "Plaything." How satisfyingly fitting!
Enough, More Later.
- James
First off, Karaoke with the fencers was lots of fun. There were a few little snags and bumps along the way, but overall it was pretty neat. We got everyone to sing, even if it was all of us belting out songs at once. My only problem was that we had just a tad too many people, in that we couldn't satisfy every ones musical wishes in the time we had. Make no mistake, we picked songs that (hopefully) everyone knew so as to get everyone involved. But as Preston said to me, it would have been nice to see some smaller groups go up there. Two highlights were a group of guys and a group of girls singing "Phantom of the Opera" (I very much enjoyed being part of that one), and Preston finding "Dragostea din tei" (which, for some reason, was on one of the lists that was in Korean and not on the English list. The english list had Rammstein, for crying out loud!). Suffice to say, I'd love to do it again (perhaps in a smaller group). I wait with baited breath for the pictures from last night to surface, as well....
Secondly, I've noticed that whenever I'm in a conversation with more than one person. I have this habit of being overrun by the other participants. We'll be talking along, there would be a pause, and I'll begin to say something only to be talked over by someone else. I, being the guy that I am, stop and let the other person say what they want, then try again at the next pause or break. Sometimes this happens more than once in a row, and it's very strange. I really would like to understand just why this is happening. Am I horrible at reading some sort of social cue? Am I not a forceful enough presence in conversation? Is what I have to say really that boorish? Help me out here, because even though it may be a natural part of conversation to accidentally talk over each other, it seems to happen to me far more frequently than I'd like.
Thirdly, and lastly, I learned an interesting bit of information in Music 10 a few days ago. To start at the beginning of why this was so, we go to San Luis Obispo, home of my grandparents. There's a restaurant/hotel/place called The Apple Farm in northern SLO that I've gone to since I was a young lad, and they have what I would call the coziest gift shop ever. It's spread across 3 levels: more adult things on the bottom level, the middle connecting with the restaurant, and the top having the greatest little nook of children's toys and books that I ever saw. I'll always remember that nook as it was 10-15 years ago, because at that point it had all the usual wooden and plastic doodads and jimcracks that a young boy could want, and a book rack full of Berenstain Bears and Golden books. It has changed over time, but that's the way I really liked it. Small and cozy, with a bay window looking out to the creek filled with clear shelves of toys, and the final topper was that they always played Baroque music in the background, which made it feel very classy.
I remember first getting into classical music, and always having in mind the atmosphere and sound of the toy nook in the Apple farm. At first what seemed to fit perfectly was the first movement of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, but later I stumbled upon another small piece by Bach called Badinerie for flute and strings. Even later I would find out that it came from his Orchestral Suite No. 2, but suffice to say that that piece fit my memory even better, and if it were not for the malleability of memory, I would swear that I remember that very same song playing as I fooled around with wooden toy soldiers. The cap on all of this was when we were going over the selfsame movement in Music 10, and I found out that the title literally means "Plaything." How satisfyingly fitting!
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
A pair of ragged claws...
Currently in Earphones "Main Theme" from The Ususal Suspects Soundtrack by John Ottman (on endless repeat)
"Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille saggitas. / uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor."
- Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Amores 1.1, lines 25-26
"Miserable me! That boy has precise arrows. / I burn, and love reigns in my empty heart."
While Ovid wasn't considered the most honest poet about love (seeing that his Amores are highly sarcastic and his Ars Amatoria are essentially a guide to getting laid), I find pieces of his poems fitting out of context.
In the above mentioned, he very wittily writes about how he was going to write an epic poem, but Cupid came down and took a metric foot away from the second line of his couplets, transforming the poem from a Heroic dactylic hexameter to a Lyric construction.
"Damn you, Cupid!" he says, essentially, "Now I'm in love but with no-one to be in love with!"
I feel his pain on a Catullus-like level.
Enough, More Later.
- James
"Me miserum! certas habuit puer ille saggitas. / uror, et in vacuo pectore regnat Amor."
- Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Amores 1.1, lines 25-26
"Miserable me! That boy has precise arrows. / I burn, and love reigns in my empty heart."
While Ovid wasn't considered the most honest poet about love (seeing that his Amores are highly sarcastic and his Ars Amatoria are essentially a guide to getting laid), I find pieces of his poems fitting out of context.
In the above mentioned, he very wittily writes about how he was going to write an epic poem, but Cupid came down and took a metric foot away from the second line of his couplets, transforming the poem from a Heroic dactylic hexameter to a Lyric construction.
"Damn you, Cupid!" he says, essentially, "Now I'm in love but with no-one to be in love with!"
I feel his pain on a Catullus-like level.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
A Story of Swords, Part 5
Currently in Earphones: The Ususal Suspects soundtrack by John Ottman
Wow, big burst of creativity has got me through the initial drafts of the next two chapters of my Story of Swords. You will only get to see the first of them for the time being, as I wrote the second one (and am writing this) through a haze of fatigue. As such, here's chapter 5.
Chapter 5: Conflict
Touchstone’s gaze wandered toward the Keep, from which he saw a lone figure emerge in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until it and the sword it wore would confront him on the small hillock. The young Fool began to recall the past few weeks that had led up to this coming moment…
Touchstone and Esther were sitting side by side on the hearth of the great hall, their backs to the warmth of the dying fire. The winter was moving away from its most bitter, and they both had a large blanket thrown about them. They had been talking quietly about many things, their hands intertwined with each other under the warmth of the cloth. During lulls in the conversation, Esther would lean her head against Touchstone’s shoulder and he would rest his scruffy chin on the top of her head. Lady Ginndem bustled about the hall, making sure that every speck of dust was removed from the various tapestries, her watchful glances toward the young couple belying her real reason for lingering in the great room. Touchstone, catching her watchful gaze, was relieved to see the Lady smile approvingly every now and then, and he continued to talk without fear of reprobation.
The young man and woman had finished a spirited talk concerning the properties of medicinal herbs when Esther quieted and adopted a look of worry.
“What is it?” asked Touchstone.
“Well, it’s both you and Helmrune. I’m so glad we have become good friends over the last month, and I enjoy spending time with you and him. It’s flattering to have two young men vying for your attention," she paused, adopting a more pensive look, "but you both confuse me.”
“I know I have been less than straightforward with you,” admitted the young Fool, “But Helmrune’s intentions are easily seen. He’s quite taken with you.”
“I suppose, but he goes back and forth. I start to talk with him about this subject and that subject, to learn what he thinks and who he is, but I don’t learn very much. Other times he writes me poems and proclaims his love for me, but all I can do is to tell him that I need to know him better if I am to give him a similarly straight response.”
“A solid rock, that one,” Touchstone wryly commented. Esther smiled briefly, and then continued.
“With you, it’s the other way. I know so much about you, you’re almost like a brother to me. I feel comfortable talking of anything and everything with you. I do admit,” and she blushed slightly, squeezing his hand, “I enjoy being with you. But with you, I don’t really know what you want. You did finally tell me about your ring, and that much I know.”
“Oh, yes. That dramatic tale,” the young Fool said dryly, and felt the silver band encircling his finger, something he’d of late grown so used to as to forget about.
“But what do you want for the future?” she continued. “You like me well enough, but we don’t talk much of such things beyond that.”
Touchstone became more serious and sighed quietly. “I still am not too sure myself. As you say, I like you very much, and you fill a hole in me that has been empty for too long. I am content as I haven’t been in a long while, but I don’t think this is the end of my journey. I still have more things to do, things I need to return to and resolve. It will be a long while yet before my story has ended.”
They were quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only noise, and the occasional soft footstep of Lady Ginndem. He then continued, “But, until then, I would desire to stay with you, as it were: if you would have me and know that, eventually, I would go.”
Esther’s hand loosened in his. “I would, for the most part,” she replied “But I wonder if the pain of your eventual leaving would be lessened if we parted sooner.”
Her words echoed in Touchstone’s mind, stirring old memories. He let go of her hand and fingered his silver ring. “Perhaps it would be better,” he said, “I’ve not had such things go well before.” He turned to look at her and found her eyes full of concern.
“Her?” she said simply, and he understood who Esther was referring to.
“Yes” he replied, and started to look away, but found her hand cradling his cheek. He looked back into her eyes as she turned his face back towards her own. He drank deep of her green eyes as she drew his face towards hers, and for the moment let all care fall away as they shared a kiss. He could have spent eternity in such a comfort, but they were both startled by approaching footsteps.
They sheepishly broke away from each other and turned toward the noise. Touchstone was surprised to see not Lady Ginndem striding forward, as he expected, but the young Lord, carrying a sword and scabbard in his hand. The young Fool stared at the black hilt, wondering at first if Helmrune had taken Doomgiver from his room, but upon catching sight of the twin white dice upon the handle realized that Coinspinner had found its way to the Keep.
Helmrune’s eyes betrayed an undercurrent of jealousy as he approached, and Touchstone realized that the young Lord had seen more than simple conversation go on between Esther and himself.
“It came to me,” said Helmrune, his voice half filled with wonder and half with approving, “The Sword of Chance.”
“It could not have found a better recipient,” said Touchstone, “But a sword such Coinspinner…I would still argue caution in its use.”
Helmrune’s face became less animate, scorn mixing with the jealousy behind his eyes. “I believe I know enough about this sword too keep myself from harm, Master Fool,” he replied, and then shifted his gaze to Esther, his expression softening, and spoke to her, “With this blade, I could become someone. I could find a place to settle into, perhaps become a metal smith, and start a good life.” His eyes betrayed the final, unsaid phrase, with you.
Esther, catching what wasn’t said, glanced at Touchstone and then looked back at Helmrune, “Perhaps so, but I agree that you should consider its abilities further before acting. Touchstone is not wrong in urging caution.”
Surprise and hurt flickered across Helmrune’s face, quickly replaced by unmistakable anger. He narrowed his eyes at Touchstone and said “Perhaps if things were a little more…simpler, things would be for the better.” With that, he whirled about and stalked off.
After the young Lord had left, Esther turned to Touchstone, saying “I’ll talk with him after he calms down. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash on account of Coinspinner, and me.” The two said their goodbyes for the time being and retreated to the comfort of their own rooms.
Later, Touchstone encountered Esther in a hallway on his way to the kitchens. She had been to Helmrune’s room in order to talk with him, but found his door locked and he unresponsive to her attempts to enter. Upon visiting the kitchens, the young Fool learned from the head cook that Helmrune had entered earlier and taken food to his room in place of joining the Ginndems for dinner. Touchstone returned to his room full of unease at the continuation of events, and felt his worry deepen at the sight of a small, handwritten note on his bed.
Picking it up, he noticed that it was in Helmrune’s hand, and stated, simply, “Meet me on the drumlin hills outside of the Keep an hour after midday meal tomorrow. Come armed. Tell nothing to Esther. All will be settled.”
The young Fool heaved a sigh, it looked to be that this would be finished the way most conflicts are finished by foolish men; by the sword. While combat was not the solution that he would have liked, Touchstone had confidence in his ability to keep both himself and Helmrune out of most harm and subdue his opponent without bloodshed. Things would be settled in one way or another, and though he would not admit it to himself, the young Fool secretly relished the thought of ending the conflict quickly with steel; avoiding the long, tedious and uncomfortable process of bandying words, accustomed to such a thing as he was.
He slept.
To Be Continued in Chapter 6
Enough, More Later.
- James
Wow, big burst of creativity has got me through the initial drafts of the next two chapters of my Story of Swords. You will only get to see the first of them for the time being, as I wrote the second one (and am writing this) through a haze of fatigue. As such, here's chapter 5.
Chapter 5: Conflict
Touchstone’s gaze wandered toward the Keep, from which he saw a lone figure emerge in the distance. It wouldn’t be long until it and the sword it wore would confront him on the small hillock. The young Fool began to recall the past few weeks that had led up to this coming moment…
Touchstone and Esther were sitting side by side on the hearth of the great hall, their backs to the warmth of the dying fire. The winter was moving away from its most bitter, and they both had a large blanket thrown about them. They had been talking quietly about many things, their hands intertwined with each other under the warmth of the cloth. During lulls in the conversation, Esther would lean her head against Touchstone’s shoulder and he would rest his scruffy chin on the top of her head. Lady Ginndem bustled about the hall, making sure that every speck of dust was removed from the various tapestries, her watchful glances toward the young couple belying her real reason for lingering in the great room. Touchstone, catching her watchful gaze, was relieved to see the Lady smile approvingly every now and then, and he continued to talk without fear of reprobation.
The young man and woman had finished a spirited talk concerning the properties of medicinal herbs when Esther quieted and adopted a look of worry.
“What is it?” asked Touchstone.
“Well, it’s both you and Helmrune. I’m so glad we have become good friends over the last month, and I enjoy spending time with you and him. It’s flattering to have two young men vying for your attention," she paused, adopting a more pensive look, "but you both confuse me.”
“I know I have been less than straightforward with you,” admitted the young Fool, “But Helmrune’s intentions are easily seen. He’s quite taken with you.”
“I suppose, but he goes back and forth. I start to talk with him about this subject and that subject, to learn what he thinks and who he is, but I don’t learn very much. Other times he writes me poems and proclaims his love for me, but all I can do is to tell him that I need to know him better if I am to give him a similarly straight response.”
“A solid rock, that one,” Touchstone wryly commented. Esther smiled briefly, and then continued.
“With you, it’s the other way. I know so much about you, you’re almost like a brother to me. I feel comfortable talking of anything and everything with you. I do admit,” and she blushed slightly, squeezing his hand, “I enjoy being with you. But with you, I don’t really know what you want. You did finally tell me about your ring, and that much I know.”
“Oh, yes. That dramatic tale,” the young Fool said dryly, and felt the silver band encircling his finger, something he’d of late grown so used to as to forget about.
“But what do you want for the future?” she continued. “You like me well enough, but we don’t talk much of such things beyond that.”
Touchstone became more serious and sighed quietly. “I still am not too sure myself. As you say, I like you very much, and you fill a hole in me that has been empty for too long. I am content as I haven’t been in a long while, but I don’t think this is the end of my journey. I still have more things to do, things I need to return to and resolve. It will be a long while yet before my story has ended.”
They were quiet for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only noise, and the occasional soft footstep of Lady Ginndem. He then continued, “But, until then, I would desire to stay with you, as it were: if you would have me and know that, eventually, I would go.”
Esther’s hand loosened in his. “I would, for the most part,” she replied “But I wonder if the pain of your eventual leaving would be lessened if we parted sooner.”
Her words echoed in Touchstone’s mind, stirring old memories. He let go of her hand and fingered his silver ring. “Perhaps it would be better,” he said, “I’ve not had such things go well before.” He turned to look at her and found her eyes full of concern.
“Her?” she said simply, and he understood who Esther was referring to.
“Yes” he replied, and started to look away, but found her hand cradling his cheek. He looked back into her eyes as she turned his face back towards her own. He drank deep of her green eyes as she drew his face towards hers, and for the moment let all care fall away as they shared a kiss. He could have spent eternity in such a comfort, but they were both startled by approaching footsteps.
They sheepishly broke away from each other and turned toward the noise. Touchstone was surprised to see not Lady Ginndem striding forward, as he expected, but the young Lord, carrying a sword and scabbard in his hand. The young Fool stared at the black hilt, wondering at first if Helmrune had taken Doomgiver from his room, but upon catching sight of the twin white dice upon the handle realized that Coinspinner had found its way to the Keep.
Helmrune’s eyes betrayed an undercurrent of jealousy as he approached, and Touchstone realized that the young Lord had seen more than simple conversation go on between Esther and himself.
“It came to me,” said Helmrune, his voice half filled with wonder and half with approving, “The Sword of Chance.”
“It could not have found a better recipient,” said Touchstone, “But a sword such Coinspinner…I would still argue caution in its use.”
Helmrune’s face became less animate, scorn mixing with the jealousy behind his eyes. “I believe I know enough about this sword too keep myself from harm, Master Fool,” he replied, and then shifted his gaze to Esther, his expression softening, and spoke to her, “With this blade, I could become someone. I could find a place to settle into, perhaps become a metal smith, and start a good life.” His eyes betrayed the final, unsaid phrase, with you.
Esther, catching what wasn’t said, glanced at Touchstone and then looked back at Helmrune, “Perhaps so, but I agree that you should consider its abilities further before acting. Touchstone is not wrong in urging caution.”
Surprise and hurt flickered across Helmrune’s face, quickly replaced by unmistakable anger. He narrowed his eyes at Touchstone and said “Perhaps if things were a little more…simpler, things would be for the better.” With that, he whirled about and stalked off.
After the young Lord had left, Esther turned to Touchstone, saying “I’ll talk with him after he calms down. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash on account of Coinspinner, and me.” The two said their goodbyes for the time being and retreated to the comfort of their own rooms.
Later, Touchstone encountered Esther in a hallway on his way to the kitchens. She had been to Helmrune’s room in order to talk with him, but found his door locked and he unresponsive to her attempts to enter. Upon visiting the kitchens, the young Fool learned from the head cook that Helmrune had entered earlier and taken food to his room in place of joining the Ginndems for dinner. Touchstone returned to his room full of unease at the continuation of events, and felt his worry deepen at the sight of a small, handwritten note on his bed.
Picking it up, he noticed that it was in Helmrune’s hand, and stated, simply, “Meet me on the drumlin hills outside of the Keep an hour after midday meal tomorrow. Come armed. Tell nothing to Esther. All will be settled.”
The young Fool heaved a sigh, it looked to be that this would be finished the way most conflicts are finished by foolish men; by the sword. While combat was not the solution that he would have liked, Touchstone had confidence in his ability to keep both himself and Helmrune out of most harm and subdue his opponent without bloodshed. Things would be settled in one way or another, and though he would not admit it to himself, the young Fool secretly relished the thought of ending the conflict quickly with steel; avoiding the long, tedious and uncomfortable process of bandying words, accustomed to such a thing as he was.
He slept.
To Be Continued in Chapter 6
Enough, More Later.
- James
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Cold Steel '07
Currently in Earphones: Crimson Tide soundtrack by Hans Zimmer
On the 6th a small contingent of UCD fencers, including myself, attended what appeared to be the first of a hopefully annual Fencing tournament held at the Santa Rosa Junior College, self-dubbed "Cold Steel" for it's occurrence during the bitter transition between December and January.
All in all, it was a good tournament: a non-league event with a small but fun showing and good times. What was somewhat unfortunate was that even though things should have gone quickly with the minimal attendance, some fencers gummed up the works by fencing more than one weapon. Now, usually this is taken in stride, and the fencers have to take the lumps with the good by being yanked back and forth between bouts with different weapons. However, when you only have a small amount of fencers in one weapon to begin with, and most of them are doing more than one of them, then things start to get annoying.
Case in point, we had 22 Epeeists in total for the whole tournament. That was all fine and dandy, but when you consider that only 5 or 6 of us were fencing Epee exclusively, then problems started to occur. The Epee pools started up, but we literally didn't have enough people available to do the pools as we're supposed to, which is in a pre-determined order such that people don't have to fence a bunch of bouts in a row. Now, this wasn't too much of a problem, we simply dis-regarded the order and worked with what we had. Even then, we could only get through 3-4 bouts before we had to wait for all the rest of us to get dis-entangled from their Foil pools. I literally had to go read a book and have a snack before things could continue.
To be fair, there were two Epee pools, and the one that I wasn't in was able to progress in a fairly orderly fashion and finish out in good time. But the pool I was in that should have taken no more than 30-45 minutes took at least 3 hours to finish. I realize that this was more a problem regarding the fencer's decisions and less the set up by the event coordinators, but I was miffed nonetheless.
Aside from that hiccup, the fencing went quite well. I did middling well in pools, going 2-4 and only getting thwacked by Billy Carson (a very nice fellow, by the way) and to a smaller extent by Andrew Kleinerman. I touched base with Robert Belanger, who's acquaintance I made at the Santa Cruz tournament, but he was in the other Epee pool and I didn't meet him in DE's.
In the DE's I first squared off with Brian Harness, who had narrowly beaten me 5-4 in the pools. I was surprised to take him with little difficulty, landing a square 10-6 and continuing on. My second DE was against Billy, and I planned on getting my ass handed to me, but to go down swinging anyway. Things started off pretty evenly, but he zoomed ahead to 8-(4 or 5, I can't remember my score) and things looked to be wrapping up. Keeping calm, I managed to make a comeback and snatch the victory out from under his nose, 10-9. I was extremely surprised to see that I'd instinctively stopped being sedentary and found chinks in Billy's defense, ending with a face shot that I'm not particularly proud to mention on account of my opponent being such a good sport.
Then came the mirror match DE; I went up against James M. Whenever we fence during practice, our matches are always close, but he usually ends up the winner by a small margin. When we began the DE he got a good lead on me, eventually culminating in 6-1, his favor. Buckling down, I pulled my points on par with his, matching his sweeping parries and wide arm shots with some very precise and delicate hand shots. In the end, he won 10-7, but it was a neat and well fought match, punctuated by the equal-opportunity and wry shouts of "Go, Davis!" and "Go, James!" from the team-mates.
I regret to say that I didn't catch as much of the Sabre pools and DE's as I would have liked, and as a result missed out on how Mr. Preston Thomas did. Toes was a good sport in coming along with us, but a screwed up back and only one set of Sabre gear had him pass it off to Amy Chi, who did fairly well, as I seem to recall. She may say differently, but she gave her opponents a run for their money, even being sick and unsure of herself. I'm anxious to see how she does in Berkeley, when she ISN'T feeling under the weather!
Some shout-outs to the novices; Will, Laura and Lizzy, who placed highly in the Newb Foil section. Also to the incomparable Mike Jumper, who whupped ass as usual in Sabre. Also of note was that the Epee semi-finals were dominated by UCD, with Me, James M., Chris Wild and Vinnie filling the slots. Vinnie placed first, James M. second, and Chris and I tied for third.
Anecdotes of note include watching the slow-motion train wreck that is Chris Wild, who even being the exceptional fencer that he is, does all three weapons and cramps up like a mother near the end of every tournament. He fenced Vinnie for the same position in the semifinals of both Foil and Epee, the former of which happened after the latter. Vinnie toned down his speed so as not to totally break Mr. Wild, but there were some fun touches and moments on the strip as the two teammates fenced.
The first was during the Foil match, in which Wild's movements were severely limited due to the cramping in his leading thigh muscle and sword arm. Vinnie charged in for some in-fighting, standing abreast with Wild for some close parries and behind-the-back ripostes. After a few clashes, however, Wild stopped, or they both reached a stalemate in that neither could get a clear shot. Then the both kinda paused and looked at each other, Wild clearly in pain and Vinnie concerned, and Vinnie reached his off-arm around and gave Wild a pat on the back, then retreated a few paces and snapped back into en guarde. Everyone laughed and Andrew Kleinerman (who was reffing) did a double take and scratched his head.
The second, and more fun anecdote, was a textbook example of what not to do on the strip. This was once again during the Foil match between Vinnie and Wild. They once again were infighting, and Vinnie had thought he scraped a point off on Wild's chest. No light had gone off, and the box was behind Vinnie and to his left. He pauses, turn around to his right, the long way around, to try and look at the box. Just as his eyes reach it, Wild thwaps him smartly on his exposed chest and Wild's light goes off. Cue uproarious laughter and and a hearty "AW CRAP!" from Vinnie as he realizes his juvenile mistake.
It's too bad this wasn't a league event, seeing as I did pretty well in it. I'm even getting a medal to boot! And now back to homework, for Monday is drawing nigh.
Enough, More Later.
- James
On the 6th a small contingent of UCD fencers, including myself, attended what appeared to be the first of a hopefully annual Fencing tournament held at the Santa Rosa Junior College, self-dubbed "Cold Steel" for it's occurrence during the bitter transition between December and January.
All in all, it was a good tournament: a non-league event with a small but fun showing and good times. What was somewhat unfortunate was that even though things should have gone quickly with the minimal attendance, some fencers gummed up the works by fencing more than one weapon. Now, usually this is taken in stride, and the fencers have to take the lumps with the good by being yanked back and forth between bouts with different weapons. However, when you only have a small amount of fencers in one weapon to begin with, and most of them are doing more than one of them, then things start to get annoying.
Case in point, we had 22 Epeeists in total for the whole tournament. That was all fine and dandy, but when you consider that only 5 or 6 of us were fencing Epee exclusively, then problems started to occur. The Epee pools started up, but we literally didn't have enough people available to do the pools as we're supposed to, which is in a pre-determined order such that people don't have to fence a bunch of bouts in a row. Now, this wasn't too much of a problem, we simply dis-regarded the order and worked with what we had. Even then, we could only get through 3-4 bouts before we had to wait for all the rest of us to get dis-entangled from their Foil pools. I literally had to go read a book and have a snack before things could continue.
To be fair, there were two Epee pools, and the one that I wasn't in was able to progress in a fairly orderly fashion and finish out in good time. But the pool I was in that should have taken no more than 30-45 minutes took at least 3 hours to finish. I realize that this was more a problem regarding the fencer's decisions and less the set up by the event coordinators, but I was miffed nonetheless.
Aside from that hiccup, the fencing went quite well. I did middling well in pools, going 2-4 and only getting thwacked by Billy Carson (a very nice fellow, by the way) and to a smaller extent by Andrew Kleinerman. I touched base with Robert Belanger, who's acquaintance I made at the Santa Cruz tournament, but he was in the other Epee pool and I didn't meet him in DE's.
In the DE's I first squared off with Brian Harness, who had narrowly beaten me 5-4 in the pools. I was surprised to take him with little difficulty, landing a square 10-6 and continuing on. My second DE was against Billy, and I planned on getting my ass handed to me, but to go down swinging anyway. Things started off pretty evenly, but he zoomed ahead to 8-(4 or 5, I can't remember my score) and things looked to be wrapping up. Keeping calm, I managed to make a comeback and snatch the victory out from under his nose, 10-9. I was extremely surprised to see that I'd instinctively stopped being sedentary and found chinks in Billy's defense, ending with a face shot that I'm not particularly proud to mention on account of my opponent being such a good sport.
Then came the mirror match DE; I went up against James M. Whenever we fence during practice, our matches are always close, but he usually ends up the winner by a small margin. When we began the DE he got a good lead on me, eventually culminating in 6-1, his favor. Buckling down, I pulled my points on par with his, matching his sweeping parries and wide arm shots with some very precise and delicate hand shots. In the end, he won 10-7, but it was a neat and well fought match, punctuated by the equal-opportunity and wry shouts of "Go, Davis!" and "Go, James!" from the team-mates.
I regret to say that I didn't catch as much of the Sabre pools and DE's as I would have liked, and as a result missed out on how Mr. Preston Thomas did. Toes was a good sport in coming along with us, but a screwed up back and only one set of Sabre gear had him pass it off to Amy Chi, who did fairly well, as I seem to recall. She may say differently, but she gave her opponents a run for their money, even being sick and unsure of herself. I'm anxious to see how she does in Berkeley, when she ISN'T feeling under the weather!
Some shout-outs to the novices; Will, Laura and Lizzy, who placed highly in the Newb Foil section. Also to the incomparable Mike Jumper, who whupped ass as usual in Sabre. Also of note was that the Epee semi-finals were dominated by UCD, with Me, James M., Chris Wild and Vinnie filling the slots. Vinnie placed first, James M. second, and Chris and I tied for third.
Anecdotes of note include watching the slow-motion train wreck that is Chris Wild, who even being the exceptional fencer that he is, does all three weapons and cramps up like a mother near the end of every tournament. He fenced Vinnie for the same position in the semifinals of both Foil and Epee, the former of which happened after the latter. Vinnie toned down his speed so as not to totally break Mr. Wild, but there were some fun touches and moments on the strip as the two teammates fenced.
The first was during the Foil match, in which Wild's movements were severely limited due to the cramping in his leading thigh muscle and sword arm. Vinnie charged in for some in-fighting, standing abreast with Wild for some close parries and behind-the-back ripostes. After a few clashes, however, Wild stopped, or they both reached a stalemate in that neither could get a clear shot. Then the both kinda paused and looked at each other, Wild clearly in pain and Vinnie concerned, and Vinnie reached his off-arm around and gave Wild a pat on the back, then retreated a few paces and snapped back into en guarde. Everyone laughed and Andrew Kleinerman (who was reffing) did a double take and scratched his head.
The second, and more fun anecdote, was a textbook example of what not to do on the strip. This was once again during the Foil match between Vinnie and Wild. They once again were infighting, and Vinnie had thought he scraped a point off on Wild's chest. No light had gone off, and the box was behind Vinnie and to his left. He pauses, turn around to his right, the long way around, to try and look at the box. Just as his eyes reach it, Wild thwaps him smartly on his exposed chest and Wild's light goes off. Cue uproarious laughter and and a hearty "AW CRAP!" from Vinnie as he realizes his juvenile mistake.
It's too bad this wasn't a league event, seeing as I did pretty well in it. I'm even getting a medal to boot! And now back to homework, for Monday is drawing nigh.
Enough, More Later.
- James
Thursday, January 04, 2007
"Good things never last, Mr. Denham"
Currently in Earphones: Imaginarium by Terry S. Taylor
And so begins a new quarter. Music 10, or Music Literature looks to be neat, but a lot of listening and concert going, not like that's any different from what I do anyway. Classics 1, or Early Greece and the Near East, will most likely be informative and interesting, but not as highly charged as Prof. Stem's Classics 3. I have yet to have my Senior Seminar, that's later on today, but Latin 110N: Ovid looks like fun and I'm auditing Prof. Stem's Cicero class.
I'm sorry to report, but A Story of Swords is now on indefinite hiatus. I'll endevour to finish it at least by the end of the year, but I've seriously been lacking the writing impetus for the past few weeks. You will see it get posted once I get another creative streak, but until then, don't hold your collective breaths.
Point of interest, I had a honest-to-goodness nightmare last night, and I can't remember when I last had one. It wasn't anything connected to any real life situation, but more like a "boo!" moment from a horror movie. The only problem was that after I was jolted awake from the surprise, I had a hard time getting my mind on some other, more calm subject so I could fall asleep again. I even remember reciting the Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear (which is a damn good piece of writing, lemme tell ya) in an effort to knock out. For the first few minutes, however, it was one of those horrible, fear-feeding-on-fear moments, where every little sound could be some creature waiting in the dark, even though it probably wasn't. My brain decided to take pity on me and gave me some nice dreams afterward, and all I'll say about those was that there was smooching involved that will probably never occur in real life. I think I'm feeling more down that the latter dream was only a dream, and less that I had a nightmare.
Fuck.
Enough, More Later.
- James
And so begins a new quarter. Music 10, or Music Literature looks to be neat, but a lot of listening and concert going, not like that's any different from what I do anyway. Classics 1, or Early Greece and the Near East, will most likely be informative and interesting, but not as highly charged as Prof. Stem's Classics 3. I have yet to have my Senior Seminar, that's later on today, but Latin 110N: Ovid looks like fun and I'm auditing Prof. Stem's Cicero class.
I'm sorry to report, but A Story of Swords is now on indefinite hiatus. I'll endevour to finish it at least by the end of the year, but I've seriously been lacking the writing impetus for the past few weeks. You will see it get posted once I get another creative streak, but until then, don't hold your collective breaths.
Point of interest, I had a honest-to-goodness nightmare last night, and I can't remember when I last had one. It wasn't anything connected to any real life situation, but more like a "boo!" moment from a horror movie. The only problem was that after I was jolted awake from the surprise, I had a hard time getting my mind on some other, more calm subject so I could fall asleep again. I even remember reciting the Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear (which is a damn good piece of writing, lemme tell ya) in an effort to knock out. For the first few minutes, however, it was one of those horrible, fear-feeding-on-fear moments, where every little sound could be some creature waiting in the dark, even though it probably wasn't. My brain decided to take pity on me and gave me some nice dreams afterward, and all I'll say about those was that there was smooching involved that will probably never occur in real life. I think I'm feeling more down that the latter dream was only a dream, and less that I had a nightmare.
Fuck.
Enough, More Later.
- James
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